


The Girl with the Book | Harry Potter

by fatecanberewritten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M, women of color
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9211037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatecanberewritten/pseuds/fatecanberewritten
Summary: "Is it possible for a portkey to not only take a person to a particular place, but to a particular time, too?""No. I don't think they're supposed to react with Muggles, either."





	1. love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is currently being edited. The story is now a part of a series, and because of this, the direction of the story has slightly changed. Some chapters will only have minor edits, while others will have major ones. Currently, I have added a beginning chapter, so the story is under major construction.

       Jana loved her sister more than anything. 

       The two girls, one in the middle of adolescence, the other still approaching, were giddily walking up to an old, worn truck that had been their father’s. They were still wet; surfboards under their arms, sand covering their bare feet in a way that would have easily annoyed the vacationers, but as natives, the feeling was very familiar. They were laughing, as if there were some great joke between the two of them - but that was not the case. The two were high on adrenaline.

       “Jana, I told you it’d be fine!” said the younger of the two, sliding her board into the back of their truck. Jana rolled her eyes, but agreed nonetheless. She admits, when her sister had come up with the idea, she had been a bit of a stick-in-the-mud about it, but only because their mother absolutely forbade night surfing, and as a parental figure to her sister, Jana had thought it right to be hesitant. But everything had worked out - they hadn’t met any sharks, and the waves were the best they’d seen in years.

       “You know, if Mom ever finds out, she  _ will  _ kill us,” Jana warned jokingly, lifting herself into the driver’s seat.

       “And  _ that’s  _ why she’ll never find out!” laughed her sister. The young girl hastily buckled her seatbelt and began fiddling with the dials of the radio, landing on a station that was playing an old Destiny’s Child song, to which she dramatically increased the volume and began singing along. Jana rolled her eyes at her little sister, backing out of the parking space, and driving away from their favorite surfing spot.

       “ _ All the ladies who're independent,”  _ the two were singing loudly, the windows rolled down, without a care in the world that it was well past one o’clock in the morning. They were having fun, they were bonding, and they were acting the only way that they believed that sisters should. Nothing was going to take that away from them.

       It wasn’t Jana’s fault at all, as her mother would spend the next few years trying to convince her. She didn’t see them and she couldn’t be blamed for that; they didn’t have their lights on, and unlike the sisters, they had been in a raging fight, not paying any attention to the road. It wasn’t until the last second that Jana had caught sight of them, barreling towards her and her sister at an unreasonably high speed. In that last second, Jana had done the only thing that came to mind: she sucked in a breath, and frantically tried to swerve away from them.

       But it had not been enough.

       All that followed was silence.

       Jana loved her sister more than anything.


	2. f i c t i o n a l

****Aulani woke slowly, with a massive headache, and looked around to find a small, cozy little room, that almost made her think of her sister’s back home. But after further inspection, she realized that she was just in another unfamiliar place. _What fictional story am I in this time?_ she thought sarcastically, though she was slightly fearful that it might happen.

        “Mum!” called a voice from the hallway. She turned to a shadow of a girl, maybe eight years old, but the way the lighting was, Aulani couldn’t see much detail. “She’s awake.”

        A moment later, a taller figure walked into the room and she was blinded by a sudden light. As her eyes adjusted, she focused on the woman peering down at her, and felt a sense of recognition. This was the woman who had pulled her into the shop, away from the two, well, _wizards._ “How are you feeling?” the woman asked Aulani gently, her tone very motherly. Aulani only stared back, very confused about so many things. “You fainted, in case you don’t remember,” she murmured, sitting in a chair beside her bed. “The Ministry men came over to see what was going on, but I told them you were a friend. I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to be intrusive, but something seemed - _off_. You seem, I don’t know, a long ways from home.”

        Aulani couldn’t help but let out a quick chuckle at that. “You’ve got that right,” she said, sitting up. “What was your name?”

        “Rory. Rory Aldeheim, Healer,” she answered. Aulani was already hesitant to introduce herself, but she was thrown off even more by Rory’s last word, as she was reminded once again that she was not only on the complete other side of the world, but also, somehow, in a fictional one. “It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me your name. You can leave whenever you want, as well. I’d prefer you’d take the floo, so you don’t see where you’re coming from. I’m sorry, but I’m not really sure who to trust these days.”

        Aulani’s eyes widened, and she let out a deep breath. “So I really am in the - you know - _Harry Potter_ universe?”

        Rory growled, as if she was tired of hearing this. “Just because he’s famous, it doesn’t mean - ” she stopped herself, looking fearfully back at Aulani. “Are you - are you not a witch?”

        Suddenly, Aulani was pushed against the headboard of the unfamiliar bed, a seemingly harmless but extremely dangerous piece of wood almost touched to her nose, threateningly. She knew what a wand could do; she’s read about it in great detail, seen its power on screen, and seen it with her own eyes. She’s seen something that she thought, for sure, was fictional. Honestly, she’s never been more terrified of anything in her entire life.

        “I take it back,” Rory said, her motherly tone replaced with that of a mother bear defending her cubs. She, herself, looked terrifying, nothing close to what Aulani had begun to briefly trust. “Tell me who you are and how exactly you got to Diagon Alley. Now.”

        “Please,” Aulani responded desperately, trying to move as far away from Rory Aldeheim’s wand as she possibly could. “I don’t know how I got there! I swear!”

        “Alright, then where are you from?” she demanded, just as harshly as before, her wand not lowering. “You sound almost American.”

        “I am! Well, Hawaiian.” Her answer seemed so normal, that for a moment, she relaxed, just slightly.

        But that was quickly diminished. “Are you a Muggle?” Rory asked her pointedly, tightening her grip on her wand.

        “What?” responded Aulani, flustered, attempting to get as far away from Rory’s wand as she could.

        “ _Are you a Muggle?”_ she screamed.

        “No!” Aulani quaked. Rory began to retract her wand, but it was put back as soon as Aulani shook her head. “Yes,” she continued. “I don’t know. I can’t be, can I? I got here, didn’t I?”

        Rory was cautious, extremely cautious - ever since her husband’s death following the Dark Lord’s return. Trust no one; protect your daughter; stay out of it, no matter what. Though she was only a child, she had vivid memory of the first war - of the dark, silent nights of the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts; of her roommate’s night terrors as she feared more and more that she would be a target due to her non-magical heritage; of her own fear, as she thought of the fate of her own family, as her parents were both Muggle-born. But everything changed that October when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was supposedly killed by an infant, and suddenly the war was over. Everything was supposed to be okay. But she remembered, in great detail, the morning, only two years later, that she had been called into the Headmaster’s office to be informed that all of them - her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, even her baby brother - were killed by a group of Death Eaters. Rory was thirteen years old.

        She would never let that happen again. Eleanora was only eight years old, and the only family Rory had left. She wouldn’t put her daughter at risk for anyone, not even this stranger who was so obviously in need of help. So why _did_ she? “Who are you?” Rory demanded again, close to tears.

        For a moment, all Aulani did was stare at her like a deer in headlights, evaluating her situation. Should she lie? Come up with a fake name? Or had she already said too much? She felt tears coming to her own eyes, but Rory was not feeling very sympathetic. “Aulani,” she told her quietly. Rory’s wand was no longer at the ready, and after what felt like so long, Aulani finally fell apart. “I don’t know where I am,” she cried. “I don’t know how I got here. All I know is that one second, I was in Barnes & Noble with my best friend, and the next, I’m stuck in a fucking fictional world!”

        “Hey, watch your tongue,” Rory warned, though it was like the threat of a parent. “I have a daughter - hold on, fictional?”

        Aulani had the sudden feeling that she was missing something, and began frantically looking around the room. “My book - where’s my book?”

        “This?” questioned Rory, pulling out the book that was resting against the foot of her chair. “It’s just a textbook.”

        Aulani grabbed at it desperately, flipping to the page she was looking for automatically, and finding the engraving still prominently there. She held the book to her chest, sighing in relief. That stupid _A_ was the thing that brought her here - maybe it was the thing that could get her back. She felt another wave of sorrow. “I just want to get back home.”

        Rory was looking at her warily, suddenly fearful for an entirely new reason, feeling as if she’s met an alien. “Why did you react so badly when I told you the year?” Rory asked Aulani carefully, reluctantly.

        She looked up into Rory’s brown eyes, seeing the depth of them for the first time. “I was born four years after 1996.”  


	3. e l e a n o r a

****Aulani was being pulled, roughly, down a very narrow hallway, her bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. This was the first time she had realized that she was not in the soaked clothes she had come to this world in, but in a set of dry ones that she presumed to be Rory’s.

        Rory. The woman who had saved her from being in range of a wild duel in Diagon Alley. The woman who was both a witch and a healer. The woman who had brought Aulani back to her home after she had fainted. The woman who she had blindly trusted. The woman who was dragging her down a hallway right now.

        The thought that she was going to be thrown out onto the street suddenly occurred to her, and Aulani began to panic. Her book was left in the bedroom, and that was the one thing she knew she couldn’t be separated from in this world. Thankfully, as they reached a small sitting room, a kitchen to their left, Aulani was thrown onto a chair as Rory made a quick movement at her with her wand, then bounded into the kitchen, frantically searching for something. Aulani terrifyingly felt practically every muscle in her body constrict, locking her into place. For a moment, she thought she was being tortured, but she came to the realization that this was the Full-Body Bind curse, a spell that was somewhat of a commonality - even considered to be _child’s play_ \- here (though it could be considered torture for Aulani). But, curiously, the feeling faded.

        “Mum?” said Rory’s daughter. This was the first time Aulani had gotten the chance to see the her in proper lighting, and Aulani came to notice that she was a very pretty young girl - a spitting image of her mother. “Is this one of the people that took Dad away from us?”

        For a moment, the room was frozen. Eleanora knew what she had said had triggered something in her mother by the way she stopped, the cabinet door she was closing stopping abruptly at 45 degrees. Rory was looking at Aulani from the corner of her eye, the thought her daughter had brought to light never occurring to her until this moment. Aulani’s stomach dropped as she remembered that _if_ she were actually in the _Harry Potter_ universe, 1996 was a time in which Voldemort and his followers were at large. Quickly, she responded. “I’m not a Death Eater!”

        Rory angrily tore out of the kitchen, a flask in her hand, her daughter cowering behind the counter. “We’ll see about that,” she hissed as she approached. The flask was now opened, and Aulani began to have an idea of what it might be: Veritaserum. “Hold out your tongue.” Having nothing to hide, Aulani did as she was told, and Rory dropped three drops of the tasteless potion on her tongue.

        Though there was no longer a spell binding her to her chair, Aulani acted as if there was, knowing that there was supposed to still be. She watched, breathing heavily, as Rory pulled a chair from the table directly in front of her, sitting at it like a detective about to begin an interrogation. Her daughter peered around at Aulani from behind the kitchen counter.

        They began without hesitation.

        “Who are you?”

        “Aulani Kalawai’a.”

        “Are you a witch?”

        “I don’t know. I don’t think I am.”

        Rory paused for a moment, surprised that a person of her age would _still_ not know if she were a witch. “If you’re not a witch, how did you get to Diagon Alley?”

        “I told you, one second I was reading a book in Barnes & Noble, the next, I look up and I’m in Flourish and Blott’s. I have no idea how I got there.”

        “And how do you know so much about the wizarding world? If you’re a Muggle?”

        “I’ve read about it. Where I’m from, this place is fictional. All of it. Harry Potter, Hogwarts, you, your daughter, Voldemort - ”

 _“Don’t say his name!”_ Rory hissed.

        “Sorry, You-Know-Who. All of it’s fictional. A young adult book series.”

        “Where are you from?”

        “Place or time?”

        A thick silence followed Aulani’s question, a silence that had Rory regretting ever bringing this girl into her and her daughter’s lives. In reality, she had had _no_ idea what she had gotten herself into that rainy afternoon in Diagon Alley. Rory’s throat began to dry as she heard her daughter venture closer. She was always so curious, so brave. “Both,” squeaked the eight year old.

        “Hawai’i, 2016.”

        There was once again a silence, a pause that had all three of the girl’s nerves on edge. Aulani wished, with all her being, that she could have taken back her words if only to gain the mother and daughter’s trust before telling them - but she had no choice, she was under a truth serum. Or perhaps she just wanted to trust these people.

        “Mum, maybe she just needs our help,” whispered Eleanora. This surprised both Rory and Aulani, as this young girl was the one to initially assume that the stranger her mother had rescued was a Death Eater.

        Rory turned to the sixteen year old maybe-Muggle-maybe-witch from the year 2016, shifted in her seat, and asked her final question. “Do you intend any harm whatsoever to my daughter or I?”

        With a final, mortified shake of her head, and a quick, “ _No,_ no, I would never!” Rory flicked her wand to counter the Full Body-Bind curse that Aulani was supposed to be under, allowing her to move freely. She moved quickly into the kitchen in search of what Aulani assumed to be an antidote for the truth serum, leaving Aulani and Eleanora alone in the sitting room.

        “So you’re really from the future?” asked Eleanora, cautiously taking her mother’s seat as Aulani stretched, not being able to shake the feeling of immobility.

        Aulani sighed, sitting on her hands, “I guess I am.” She sent the young girl a sincere smile. “What’s your name?”

        “Eleanora. Most people call me Nora, though.”

        Aulani offered her hand to Eleanora. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Nora. You can call me Lani.” From the kitchen, an antidote for Veritaserum in hand, Rory watched this exchange between her daughter and the mysterious Aulani Kalawai’a from the future with great caution. She knew, of course, that Veritaserum was not a reliable source when dealing with overly powerful wizards such as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or her old headmaster, but as she glanced down at the never-before-opened flask, she had begun to wonder if it had worked at all. Though it oddly matches up with their first encounter, the teenager’s story seemed much too far-fetched - something far beyond Rory’s comfort level, especially with the signs of war emerging.

        Rory’s head snapped in the direction of the two girls at her daughter’s next words. “So what’s it like? You know, in the future?”

        “Do _not_ answer that, Aulani,” reacted Rory, remembering some of her history of magic classes. She walked into the room with an astounding sense of control and authority, brandishing the antidote to Aulani, who, with only slight hesitation, took the prescribed amount. “Awful things can happen to wizards who meddle with time,” she explained, to both her daughter and the time meddler herself. She watched as a spark of fear ignited in Aulani’s expression, though she looked as if she had already known this.

        “Is it possible,” Aulani began, looking shaken, “for a portkey to not only take a person to a particular place, but to a particular time, too?”

        Rory was, once again, taken aback by how much this girl knew about the wizarding world, having lived in an environment that should have absolutely no knowledge of the information. She said that she’s read about it all, but what kind of book would she have access to that could have any of this information? It _is_ possible, Rory pondered, that in the future, there is no secrecy whatsoever between the Muggle and magical worlds. She stopped right there, knowing that that type of thinking could lose her her mind. “No,” she answered. “I’ve never heard of anything that could do that.”

        Aulani’s tanned skinned paled slightly, obviously having her one explanation to this entire situation tarnished. _This is a dream_ , she retorted to once again. _This is an extremely elaborate, extremely realistic fragment of my imagination._ She _had_ always wanted to be a witch, to see Harry defeat the Dark Lord in person, to meet the legendary Albus Dumbledore.

_Dumbledore._

        “I need to find Albus Dumbledore.”  


	4. o z

****Rory Aldeheim had no idea why she was helping Aulani Kalawai’a in the first place, or why she hadn’t let the Ministry take care of her while they were in Diagon Alley. It went against everything she had made herself to be after her husband’s death - cold, closed off, and completely unimportant to the greater scheme of things. She only had three rules: trust no one, protect your daughter and stay out of it, no matter what. And yet, in a matter of hours, she has broken all three of them - and for what? A teenager who claimed to be from the future?

        She’s seen rock bottom more times than she would ever care to admit, but she’s never seen someone so terribly lost in her entire life. She couldn’t help the heartbreaking sensation that sprouted when Aulani had said that all she wanted to do was go home. She was Dorothy in Oz, and right now, Rory was the closest thing she had to a yellow brick road. But it was exactly that - her helplessness, her innocence - that made her dangerous, because so often, innocence is only manipulation.

        “We’re doing the right thing, Mum,” Eleanora assured her mother, picking up on her hesitation. The young girl stood no taller than her mother’s elbow, but at times such as this one, her own daughter made Rory feel like a child. “Dad would want us to help her.”

        Rory was astonished that her daughter could even think of saying that, after accusing Aulani of being one of the people who was responsible for her father’s death. It was absurd to her how quickly Eleanora’s opinion of the stranger had changed. The two of them had engaged in a single conversation - they had exchanged names, and suddenly Eleanora was putting her trust in this girl like she would a friend. Rory knew she had a lot more to teach her daughter before sending her to Hogwarts - if it will ever be safe to go there again.

        She took her daughter’s hand and led her to the sitting room, where Aulani stood waiting, tightly clutching a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ to her chest, much like when they had first met. _What was with her and the book?_ “I assume you’ve never apparated before?”

        Aulani turned to the mother-daughter pair, looking as though she was distracted (she was, of course, trying to wake herself up from the most vivid dream she’s ever had, with no success). She shrugged. “Can’t be much different from traveling twenty years back in time, can it?”

        Rory wouldn’t know. She stepped closer, grabbing a hold of Aulani’s wrist, pulling Eleanora closer to herself. “Just know - ”

        “Most people puke their first times?” finished the Hawaiian, looking at her magical counterpart sheepishly. Rory looked at her in shock for a moment, before shaking herself off, dismissing the oddly correct interruption as some sort of future voodoo.

        Before Aulani was prepared, a feeling that was definitely _not_ comparable to reading a book and ending up in a different time period overcame her. The way Harry Potter had described it in the books was extremely accurate - a feeling of being pressed through a very tight rubber tube, though it seemed different from what he described, because for a moment, Aulani felt as if she were neither here nor there, but in _both_ places. She didn’t remembered Harry ever experiencing _that._

        They had traveled to a small village that made the night extremely prevalent, but luckily lacked the London rain. “Where are we?” she immediately asked, though she wasn’t exactly paying attention to the answer, having already figured it out for herself. Hogsmeade was a beautiful little Scottish village, the streets lined with an assortment of homey cottages and stores, fitting how it was dictated in the books perfectly, only missing the crowds of Hogwarts students. At the thought of the school, Aulani’s heart rate picked up, knowing that she could probably see it from where she stood, but she wouldn’t dare to look. It’s a dream, she knows it to be, and that would just make it even more far-fetched.

        “You can’t just walk through the front doors, obviously,” Rory was saying in a whisper. The streets were empty to all but a stray cat a block down. “Lucky for you, I know of another way.”

        Aulani knew where Rory would take her before she had even made her first step, but that didn’t stop the wonder that plagued her mind as she looked into the dark store windows of the ever-so-famous Honeydukes.

        “Alohomora,” whispered Rory before she pushed the door open.

        Her daughter was looking at her as if she were seeing her mother as cool for the first time in her life. Aulani noticed this, and couldn’t hold back a chuckle, remembering the first time she had looked at her own mother that way. Her mood changed drastically when she thought of her mother.

        They all walked into the small candy shop, Eleanora immediately beginning to look around, having never been to the classic store. It wasn’t as good, she noticed, as Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. Aulani, having nothing to compare it to, took in the dark store with fantastic amazement. She didn’t get to look at it with more detail, though, being pushed by Rory towards the counter, and the door that stood behind it. “Nora,” she called back to her daughter, who was distracted by a package of fizzing whizzbees. “Come on, dear, we have to be quick.”

        Rory led them both to the door that stood behind the counter, pushing past it, and down a set of stairs that led to a small storage room, which Aulani knew contained a trap door that would get her into Hogwarts. “How did you know this was here?” she wondered aloud to Rory, thinking that only a limited amount of people (including Harry, Fred and George, the Marauders, and anyone to ever read the books or see the movies) knew of the hidden passage.

        “I used to work here over the summers while I was at school,” she answered. She suddenly realized that her question implied that Aulani had already known of it, and looked at the teenager curiously. “How do _you_ know about it?”

        Aulani shrugged, knowing she had dug herself into a hole with her question. She answered very vaguely, knowing Rory didn’t want to know about the future. “Future, I guess.”

        Rory rolled her eyes, and Aulani had the feeling that maybe she was warming up to her. She reached down to the floor, and pulled up the trapdoor, which had been undetectable against the old floorboards. Aulani looked at it, surprised, though she knew it would be there. This was all too real for her.

        She watched as Rory picked up a random artifact - an empty jar - from the shelves, and performed some sort of charm on it, before setting it back down where she had gotten it. “Ambrosius and his wife get to the store about an hour before opening, so you only have about four hours - _exactly_ four hours to get to Hogwarts, talk to Dumbledore, and get back here to meet the portkey, alright? It will take you back to my house, but if you’re even a minute late, it won’t take you anywhere, understand?” Aulani nodded. “If you don’t get back here in time, you'll be on your own. I won’t come looking for you.” She hesitated this time, feeling slightly abandoned, but after a second, Aulani nodded again.

        Eleanora, hoping to later convince her mother _not_ to abandon Aulani, ran up and hugged the sixteen-year-old, worried that this might be their last time seeing each other. “Be safe, Lani,” whispered she. Aulani was almost brought to tears, being greatly reminded of her best friend, stuck back at the Barnes & Noble in the year 2016. She had an overwhelming longing to get back home, and with that thought, the book that had brought her here, tucked into her jacket, seemed to become very apparent to her.

        “Thank you,” she said to the mother and daughter as Eleanora stepped back to her mother. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

        For a moment, Rory put aside her suspicions of Aulani Kalawai’a, the maybe-witch-maybe-Muggle from 2016, and saw, briefly, a girl that so reminded her of herself. “Just try to find your way back home,” she responded sincerely.

        Aulani took a deep breath and nodded, before crouching down, and going into the secret passage that would take her to Hogwarts, and hopefully, home.

        It was only moments after the trapdoor was shut behind the young girl that Rory Aldeheim realized what she might have just done. “Expecto Patronum,” she whispered with the flick of her wand. A blue, mystic fox was emitted from her wand, running through Honeydukes, and off to the castle. Rory prayed, with all her being, that it would get there before the girl with the book.  


	5. u n k n o w n

****All she could hear, all she’s been able to hear from the moment the trapdoor fell closed above her head, was her own, shaky breathing. She moved through the long, pitch black passageway with immense caution, her intense longing to see her family again the only thing pushing her to take the next step. Maybe this was a dream, or maybe she _had_ been sent into a fictional world, but either way, she couldn’t seem to get back, and the only place she would find answers was at the other end of this seemingly endless passageway. _Help can always be found at Hogwarts,_ she thought to herself, over and over, like a prayer. _Help can always be found at Hogwarts._

        Harry Potter was the only one awake in his dorm room on that Tuesday night. He had gotten into the habit of doing that: sitting atop his bed, watching the Marauder’s Map with only the light of his wand to read by. Since his suspicious sighting of Draco Malfoy in Knockturn Alley over the summer, he’s been watching the Slytherin’s late-night movements, knowing that _something_ was not right, though he wasn’t sure _what_. He thought Malfoy to be a Death Eater now, and he trusted his instincts.

        But Malfoy hadn’t left the Slytherin common room for almost twenty minutes now, and Harry was on the verge of giving up for the night to actually get some rest. With the castle asleep, the entirety of the names on the map were very sedentary, and it wasn’t until Harry had moved his wand closer to the map, about to mutter _mischief managed,_ that he noticed movement.

        The movement was curious for a number of reasons, causing Harry to stare intently at the spot on the map. For one thing, the movement was not yet in the castle, but walking quickly along the very passage that Harry had taken in his third year to get to Hogsmeade. For another thing, the movement, the object, the person, was curiously named: _unknown._

        Harry Potter grabbed his cloak of invisibility and hastily made his way out of his dormitory at the same moment that a blue, mystic fox tapped against the bedroom window of Minerva McGonagall.

        After what felt like an eternity of walking in darkness, the tunnel between Honeydukes and Hogwarts began sloping upwards, leading to what Aulani perceived to be a pile of boulders. As if they had sensed her coming, the rocks moved apart, just far enough to allow the small sixteen-year-old to slip through, into one of the largest corridors she had ever seen. Stepping out, the passage she had just exited closed once again, causing her to turn to see the statue of a one-eyed witch, beautifully illuminated by the moonlight. Not remembering how to open the passage once again, Aulani was forced to move on, hoping to stumble upon the headmaster’s office, which she now realized she would need a password for. Angry at herself for coming in blind, she longed for her sister, the girl who always had a plan, to be with her. Though, if she could somehow bring her sister into this world, she would rather use that ability to get herself out.

        “Wake up,” she tried, hitting the heel of her hand roughly against her forehead. She knew this wouldn’t work - she’s tried it, too many times to count, at this point. That didn’t stop her from trying anyway. “Wake up, wake up, _wake up!”_

        “Petrificus totalus!” Aulani hadn’t gotten the chance to look for her attacker, though, even if she had, she wouldn’t have been able to find him. She cried out desperately as she had the hauntingly familiar feeling of immobility, and fell to the ground, stiff as a board. The spell was bearable the first time (though just barely), but after the second time, she began to wonder if the wizards she’s met were purposely using the spell to torture her. Aulani has had her fair share of paralysis, and as she lay on the ground, unable to move, she wanted to scream bloody murder. She was reminded of the months following the car accident - the months of slowly, _slowly_ regaining feeling from the neck down; the months of treacherous physical therapy; the year of the wheelchair; the years of both physical and psychological trauma. Yes, she’s incredibly lucky to be alive, but it was something that would stay with her for her entire life.

        If this was a dream, then it was a nightmare, and still, she didn't wake. _“No!”_ she screamed, breaking free of the curse. Aulani scrambled away from where she had fallen, as if she were running from the chains that held her in place.

        Harry looked at the girl in complete and utter shock. She had used no spell, no magic whatsoever, yet she had broken free of what was supposed to paralyze her. He pulled off his cloak, threateningly held up his wand and pushed the girl, who couldn’t be any older than himself, against the wall.

        Aulani was terrified once again of the thin piece of wood that stood between herself and her attacker, but then she noticed exactly who her attacker _was._

        “Harry Potter,” she whispered. The first thing she had thought was _wow, they had cast him extremely well in the movies._ He didn’t look exactly like Daniel Radcliffe, mostly in that he looked younger (as Daniel Radcliffe had been twenty at the end of Half Blood Prince) but the most prevalent difference was his eyes, a brilliant green as opposed to Radcliffe’s blue. The second thought she had was how horrible her luck was in running into the protagonist of the best selling series in the entire modern world. She knew that all of this was likely a dream, that she was likely insane, but there was that thought in the back of her head, that _tiniest inkling_ of a possibility that she was somehow in JK Rowling’s masterpiece. And if she was, then this was an incredibly terrible mistake. She could confide in Dumbledore, trusting him to keep the secret and continue on with the story as it was supposed to play out, but even _meeting_ Harry Potter put literally the entire world at jeopardy. How could she be so stupid?

        She watched as his green eyes transformed from a look of accusation to a look of confusion and fear at the way this stranger, this _unknown_ spoke his name. He was no stranger to being recognized by people he’s never met (one of the many downfalls of being the Chosen One) but this was, on so many levels, different.

        “Mr. Potter!” exclaimed a booming female voice. Harry immediately dropped both his wand, and the strange intruder, who immediately attempted to regain her composure.

        “Professor,” Harry addressed, looking to a tall witch in elegant night robes. Aulani was in awe, feeling blessed to be in the presence of Maggie Smith, or, as she’s known in this world, Minerva McGonagall. “Professor, she’s - ”

        “Mr. Potter, unless you would like to spend then next two months in detention, I suggest you head straight to your dormitory.”

        “But professor - ”

 _“Now.”_ There was a moment of silence, eventually followed by Harry Potter turning to glare at the Intruder, the _unknown,_ the time traveler - Aulani Kalawai’a. He collected his fallen invisibility cloak and began to walk in the direction he came. “Miss Kalawai’a, if you would follow me, please.”

        Both Aulani and Harry were incredibly shocked at this, but nonetheless, Aulani did as she was told, beginning to walk in the opposite direction with the deputy headmistress. As she walked, she turned to look back at a character she swore as a child that she would easily be friends with if they ever were to meet. Now, after just meeting Harry Potter, he looked at her, almost as he would look at a Death Eater.

 _Wake up,_ she told herself. _Wake up._   


	6. d u m b l e d o r e

****Turning into another hall, Aulani thought that she was safe, that she was under the protection of one of her favorite characters, but as a stranger to the castle, she wasn’t safe with anyone. As soon as they had gotten out of Harry Potter’s sight, McGonagall had let go of the young girl’s arm, taking out her wand, and pointing it at her threateningly.

        Once again fearful, Aulani found herself, again, pushed up against a wall. “Aurora has told me that you’ve already been questioned under Veritaserum,” started the professor slowly, cautiously. “Now, if you are truly lost, and only looking to find your way home, then we _will_ help you. But if your intentions are _anything_ other than that, I will do everything in my power to protect this school, and Albus Dumbledore.”

        Slowly, Aulani raised both of her hands in defense, looking helpless and lost, well, because she _was._ But McGonagall was no fool - this was a time of war, an era of deception. She has learned the hard way that even the most innocent can be evil, and she will not soon make the same mistake. She retracted her wand.

        Tension still between the two of them, the professor and the Intruder walked together down a maze of corridors, until, eventually, they came upon a large gargoyle, past which was the office of the headmaster. “Toffee eclair,” said McGonagall to the stone.

        An eye of the sleeping gargoyle opened, and Aulani jumped back in shock. “She has no place here,” said the deep voice of the stone creature, referring to Aulani. Though she knew what the gargoyle said was true, it _stung_ to hear that Hogwarts, a place she knew so well by means of books and movies, did not accept her.

_“Toffee eclair!”_

        With what Aulani thought was an eye roll, the creature hopped out of the way, revealing a stairway, which McGonagall began to climb without hesitation. Aulani followed slowly, moving past the gargoyle, who, like Harry Potter, seemed to be glaring at her. She hurried up the stairs.

        “Albus, I’m sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but,” Aulani moved past the stuttering professor and into the charming, circular room. And there, in the center (next to what she assumed to be the Pensive) was Albus Dumbledore. She wanted to hug him and yell at him at the same time - she did neither, of course. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

        There was a long pause during which the two older wizards looked at the young intruder, and no one dared to moved. Aulani was the first to break the silence, staring knowingly at the Headmaster. “You were looking at his memories, weren’t you? Tom Riddle?”

        McGonagall’s wand was out before she had even finished her sentence, though at Dumbledore’s raised hand, the curse upon her lips was never spoken. “And how, my dear,” spoke Albus Dumbledore, his first words to Aulani Kalawai’a, “might you know that?”

        “Right, uh - ” she stuttered, not exactly knowing how to put her next thought into words. She fiddled her fingers and paced the room for a moment, before finally settling in a chair against the wall, pulling the book from her jacket. The two moved closer to her. “Before I say anything,” she started. “Everything - _everything_ you are planning to do concerning Harry Potter, Voldemort, and the upcoming war - none of it can change because I'm here, okay?” McGonagall’s expression had changed dramatically, but Dumbledore’s had stayed the same. He nodded, so Aulani continued. “Well, um, I'm from the future.”

        “You’ve used a time turner to return to this period in time,” stated Dumbledore immediately. Jumping to conclusions was very uncharacteristic of him, but with the combined factors of immense stress, his lack of sleep, and his odd inability to perform legilimency on the Hogwarts Intruder, it was justified. “Why?”

        Aulani began frantically shaking her head, eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. “No, I didn’t, I swear! I didn’t _mean_ to come here, and honestly, I’m not even sure if I’ve gone back in time, or if I’ve - well - ” she cut herself off, not sure if she should continue.

        “Or if you’ve - what?” questioned the elderly wizard, noticing the book in the girl’s lap.

        She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “Or if I’ve been sucked into a book.” Aulani curiously looked up to see the expressions of the two in front of her, seeing exactly what she expected: two people who looked as though they’ve seen a ghost. “You see,” she continued, “where I’m from, this is all a book series - a fictional one, one that’s known worldwide. I grew up reading these books, in fact I know them so well that I could tell you everything that’s already happened and everything that’s going to happen. I could tell you the outcome of the war - the day of the last battle - who’ll die. I can tell you _exactly_ how to defeat Voldemort, but I’m not going to, because things _have to_ play out a certain way. I’m not here to help or harm you - I’m just here to find a way back home before I accidentally change something that can’t be changed back."

        What followed was a silence so thick that even the snores of the portraits hung up around the room could not break it. Albus Dumbledore looked as though he was in deep thought, attempting to sort Aulani’s story out completely, looking for a solution. Minerva McGonagall looked as though she were about to faint, likely on the verge of an existential crisis. For the second time in a matter of hours, Aulani wanted to take back everything she had just said, but this time she didn’t have a truth serum to blame for her outburst.

        “Please,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “One moment I was in a bookstore with my friend in 2016, and the next, I look down at this book, and - ”

        “Hold on,” interrupted the headmaster. “You’re saying this book,” he motioned to the one in her lap, “is what brought you here?” She nodded, thankful that there was finally some understanding. “May I see it?”

        So Aulani gave her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ to Albus Dumbledore. “Page 96,” she offered, as Dumbledore had looked extremely confused at the seemingly normal book. He opened it, and for the first time, Aulani noticed the name on the spine was different from when she had first seen it. Instead of JK Rowling being credited for the textbook, the name had been replaced by who had written it in this world - Newt Scamander.

        It made no sense to her. The book had come _with_ her from the year 2016 - it should be unchanged.

        When Dumbledore turned to the page with the engraving, he was shocked, to say the least. Magic can leave traces - he’s known this for far too long, and this textbook, so ordinary, so unimportant, has definitely been charmed with extremely powerful magic. He’s never known something powerful enough to transport an unwilling victim into a completely different time period - or, perhaps, dimension. He closed the book. “If what you say is true,” he spoke gently. “If you truly know the outcome of the ensuing war, then no one outside of this room can know. If Minerva is willing, then she and I will look into a way that we can get you home, but until then I cannot risk Voldemort getting his hands on you. I would like you to stay here at Hogwarts, under our protection, until we can figure a way out of this.”  


	7. t r u s t

****From the moment Rory Aldeheim sent her message via patronus, she has been questioning everything - _everything._ With her daughter soundly asleep on the couch (she had refused to reside to her bed until the time traveler’s unlikely return) Rory was pacing the room, evaluating the mistakes in her choices - in trusting the girl, and in second guessing that trust. What she found herself most contemplating, however, was her decision to leave Aulani Kalawai’a alone.

        There were two possible outcomes stemming from her decision, and Rory didn’t like either of them. The first was that the sixteen year old was powerful enough to resist the most powerful truth serum ever made, powerful enough to appear powerless in order to gain her trust, and powerful enough to attack one of the most powerful wizards in the world. She had been terrified of this outcome from the second Aulani had disappeared into the secret passage that led to the school, and Rory gave herself no other choice than to send a warning to an old friend of hers. But, there was a second outcome, one that was equally as morally heartbreaking: the thought that she might have sent a truly helpless, magicless sixteen year old girl into an ambush.

        Even her worry was worrying her - why should she care so much about a stranger? - but she _did_ worry for Aulani Kalawai’a. It wasn’t something she could explain (maybe a motherly instinct?) but she’s had the feeling from the first moment she had seen the girl idiotically standing too close to a messy duel in Diagon Alley. It had been second nature for her to help her, just as it had been second nature to trust her until she had given her a reason not to. And even then, that reason was not necessarily deserving of the level of suspicion and defensiveness that followed. Rory had the urge to go back for her suddenly, an urge so powerful that the young mother was on the verge of Apparition, when she was interrupted by a sudden noise, loud enough to wake her daughter.

        Aulani Kalawai’a now stood before the mantle situated in the cramped sitting room, an illegal portkey disguised as a dusty old jar in hand. “Lani!” exclaimed Eleanora, now very much awake. Rory let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and, surprising the lot of them, pulled the teenager into a relieved hug. Realizing her actions, and still not certain with where she should be placing her trust, Rory quickly pulled away, and the two stared at each other in mutual confusion. The atmosphere was broken by the young eight year old attaching herself to the Hawaiian’s hip in a thankful hug. “I knew you’d come back!” said Eleanora, utterly relieved.

        An awkward pause followed this exchange, and Aulani had begun to wonder what had changed the mind of a woman who had blatantly told her that she wouldn’t come back for her. Little did either of the women know, this was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Rory motioned for Aulani to sit with her on the couch, while twirling her wand in the direction of the kitchen. Aulani watched in awe as three mugs sprung to life, beginning to create three hot beverages, completely independently, as she accepted her host’s offer to sit. “Did you get to Dumbledore alright?” Rory immediately asked.

        Aulani watched as Eleanora curled up on her mother’s lap, an action so caring, so innocent, that for a moment, she doubted completely that Rory - _Aurora -_ could have possibly _warned_ Minerva McGonagall, as if she thought that Aulani meant _harm_ to Hogwarts. Three mugs, filled to the brim with hot chocolate, floated over to the girls. Aulani sighed, and responded to the question she had been asked. “McGonagall was there to watch over me,” she responded after taking a sip of possibly the best hot chocolate she’s ever tasted. “And threaten me.”

        The smile on Rory’s face immediately fell, and she put down her own mug. “Aulani,” she started, “please, you have to understand - ”

        “That you don’t trust me?” she finished. “Yeah, I’ve kind of _got_ that feeling.”

        “It’s hard to trust anyone!” exclaimed Rory, her voice quiet, defensive. “My world is at _war_ right now. I’m sorry, but it’s difficult to trust a stranger who claims to be from the future.”

        Empathy had always been a strong and beloved quality of Aulani, and now, hearing the emotion in the voice of someone who had been very closed-off, she began to feel terrible for pressuring her. Though, to be fair, it _was_ what she had been doing to Aulani basically the entire time they’ve known each other. But again, this is a time of war. Aulani nodded. “I understand that,” she started. “But I promise you, Rory, I’m telling you the truth. I could tell you something to prove it, but you said you didn’t want to know anything about the future.” Rory hesitated, visibly contemplating whether she wanted to know, then shook her head. A pause ensued, as Aulani watched a young mother that reminded her _so_ much of her own mother, and sister. “But I trust _you,”_ she said, because, how could she not? “And if I’m going to be stuck in the wrong generation, in a world that I still kind of believe is fictional, I’m gonna need someone I can trust.”

        Eleanora, close to sleep again, stirred in her mother’s arms, and looked up to the most familiar face she would ever know. “I trust her, Mum,” she said simply, though it was probably the most powerful thing she would ever say to her mother. Minutes later, Eleanora was soundly asleep in her bedroom, leaving Aulani and her mother alone in the sitting room.

        “So,” Rory started once again, “did he believe you? Did he find a way to get you home?”

        Aulani smiled sadly. “Yes to the first question, no to the second,” she sighed. “He definitely believes me - he said that there was a trace of powerful magic on my book.” Rory came to the realization that for the first time since the two have met, Aulani was without her precious textbook. “Unfortunately, he didn’t have any idea how to get me back. He and McGonagall are searching the book now to see if there are any loopholes."

        “So what are you supposed to do in the meantime? Just sit and wait?” she asked, astonished.

        “They’re having me attend Hogwarts as an Ilvermorny transfer, so they can watch over me.” Aulani watched as her host’s eyes widened, obviously expecting something completely different. “As you can imagine, if You-Know-Who knew that there was someone who knows the exact outcome of the war, he’d probably try to use that to his advantage.”

        “Naturally,” responded she with a small, bitter laugh. “But I’ve never heard of a transfer student before. Won’t that draw attention to you?”

        “I guess,” Aulani retorted with a shrug of her shoulders. “But only for the first week or so. I’ll fade into the background eventually. And _that’s_ when I sit and wait, and try my best not to screw everything up.”

        Rory laughed at that. It had been a long time since she’d had an actual, full conversation with someone other than her daughter, and it had felt wonderful to her. “I take it you leave tomorrow, then?” Aulani nodded, though slightly overwhelmed by this fact. She watched curiously as Rory stood, and left the room.

        Rory Aldeheim had trust issues and she always would, nothing could change that - but there was something about this time traveler that, though off putting, was trustworthy - something that Rory hadn’t seen in someone in a long, long time. So, she walked down her hallway quickly, and though there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to turn back, to leave it alone, she pushed on. Eventually she found herself in front of her bedroom vanity, the third drawer pulled open to reveal a ten inch, koa wood, phoenix feather core wand - Koda’s wand. Before she could change her mind, Rory had grabbed it, and brought it out to Aulani Kalawai’a.

        Aulani was beyond confused, and, seeing the wand in her counterpart’s outstretched hand, a bit nervous. But Rory was smiling. “Can’t be a witch without a wand.”

        Her jaw slacked, and she stared up at the young mother with nothing but disbelief and fear in her eyes. “I can’t - ”

        “Oh, of course you can,” responded Rory with an even bigger smile.

        But Rory didn’t understand - in fact, _Aulani_ wouldn’t have even understood, had she and Leigh not read JK Rowling’s most recent update on Pottermore, that of which explained the creation of Ilvermorny, and of its Muggle founder, who had held a wand and been knocked unconscious. “Have you ever seen a Muggle try to hold a wand?” she asked cautiously.

        Rory was a little confused, but quickly brushed it off. “My dear, you’re not a Muggle - you can’t be. The least you can do is try, and if it doesn’t react well with you, I won’t let you get hurt,” she assured her. “You can trust me.”

        Aulani looked up at her again at her last words, and after a moment, nodded. She shakily reached for the wand, feeling the air surrounding her fingertips warm more and more the closer she got to it. Centimeters from the beautiful carving of wood, Aulani closed her eyes, and bravely took the leap.

        The second her fingers touched the wand, she felt a shock, causing her to jump back. Only after a moment of calming her breathing, she came to realize that the shock was no more painful than when her sister would shuffle her feet on the carpet and reach out to touch her - most importantly, she realized, was that she was still conscious. Much quicker this time, Aulani reached for the wand still in Rory’s hands, and with a look of pure amazement, she picked it up fully, holding it in her own hands. A feeling of warmth overtook her, as if she had stepped into a warm room after being in the bitter cold all day. In this cold, fictional, late-autumn London, she suddenly felt as if she has a little piece of home.

        “See,” Rory said, a small smirk on her face, her arms crossed triumphantly over her chest. “Told you.”  


	8. i n t r u d e r

****“Harry, how is that even _possible_?”

        It was morning in the Gryffindor common room, a morning that seemed _way_ too calm to Harry Potter. After the eventful night he had had, he thought _for sure_ that something must have changed - Hogwarts has had an _intruder,_ and for all he knew, that girl could have very well been a Death Eater. _Why weren’t people in a panic?_ “I don't know, Hermione,” he finally answered.

        “I mean, that doesn’t make any sense,” continued Ron Weasley, baffled at the information he’s just received from his best friend. “Even Peter Pettigrew’s name showed up on the map - and he was a bloody rat.”

        Had he not been so captive in his own thoughts, Harry would have been angered at Ron’s comment - first of all, for even mentioning the man who had given up his parents to Voldemort, but also because he was right - it _didn’t_ make any sense. He couldn’t help himself from staring intently at the fireplace, where just two years prior, he had spoken to his godfather about the Triwizard Tournament. He tried to imagine what Sirius would say to what happened last night, but all he could hear was the horrid cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange.

        Hermione Granger, sat between the boys on the floor of the nearly empty common room, looked at Harry with concern, as she found herself doing so often. Things had changed in their world - so many things - and Harry, a damaged child thrown into a damaged world, had taken more blows than anyone. “Harry are you sure that - ” he looked up at her. “Are you sure that it wasn’t just a dream?”

        “It wasn’t a dream,” he said. Harry knew very well that it wasn’t a dream - his dreams didn’t change much anymore, and this was well beyond anything he could have ever dreamt. “McGonagall was there.”

_“McGonagall - ?”_

        “Yeah,” he confirmed. “She knew her, the Intruder. She talked to her like - like she was a _student_ \- ”

        “ _Was_ she?”

        “Hardly anyone knows about the passage she came in through,” Harry explained. “And besides, she looked our age - don’t you think we would’ve seen her around before?” Ron and Hermione silently agreed and resigned at his question. He had already described the girl to them, and neither of them could put a familiar face to his description, so it was very likely that, if she wasn’t a fragment of Harry's imagination, she very well could have been a threat to the school. “But McGonagall knew her name - Kala - Kala-something. I don’t know; it didn’t sound English.”

        The three of them sat in silence for a moment, caught in deep thought of their odd situation, wondering, once again, why it was always them. Both together and apart, they had gone through so much, and would go through so much more. Even this school year, Harry was beginning to look into Voldemort’s memories with Dumbledore to try to find his weaknesses, and with that, atop his suspicions of Malfoy, all his course work, and the fact that he was still quietly grieving the death of his godfather, there wasn’t room for much more. But now there was this: the Intruder. _Where does she fit in?_

        “You know,” Hermione spoke up, “even if she _had_ been an intruder, McGonagall wouldn’t have let her get very far, don’t you think? For all we know, she could have gone off with her to report her to the Ministry - ”

        “Like that would accomplish anything,” Ron huffed under his breath.

        Hermione ignored him. “What I’m _saying_ is, it seems to have been sorted out already. I wouldn’t worry about it so much, Harry. You'll probably never see her again.”

        But, of course, it was much more complicated than that.

        In spite of Hermione’s assurance, Harry carried out his oddly normal day with great suspicion. Between classes, he would search the crowds for the dark-haired intruder; he would find himself in the hall where he had confronted her on several occasions throughout the day; he would watch McGonagall with caution, hoping that maybe she’d inform him of the situation, but she was far too distracted to even notice him, because whenever she was not teaching, she seemed to be carefully reading an old textbook.

        But, of course, there was nothing he could do to prove that there was indeed a threat to the school, so Harry was forced to conform to the normality of this unimportant day, and very quickly, dinnertime had arrived. The trio walked together through the corridors on their way to the Great Hall, though Harry, silently walking alongside his two bickering friends, felt more like a tag-along. “All I'm saying is that you shouldn't let it go to your head as much.”

        “Why?” responded Ron arrogantly, a sly smirk appearing on his face. “Don't like girls throwing themselves at me, ‘Mione? Is that it?”

        With an annoyed growl, Hermione rolled her eyes. “That is _not_ what I said.”

        Harry had tuned them out by the time they had entered the Great Hall. He quickly spotted a couple seated awfully close to one another at the end of the Gryffindor table, and felt like a weight had been dropped on his chest. Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley were Gryffindors’ newest favorite couple (not in the opinion of Ron, of course), but Harry had always hated seeing them together, and when the ladder looked up at him, Harry only sent her a quick, awkward smile, and averted his eyes to the ground. He quickly walked past the couple, and sat beside Neville Longbottom, Ron and Hermione across from them.

        And finally, after the horribly normal day, there was something that began to feel off about the feast - the food had yet to appear. Normally, this would only happen at the beginning of the year, as the students would ceremoniously watch the sorting of the first years before they would eat, but after the first of September, students would normally come and go as they please. There were curious whispers filtering throughout the hall as people had begun to questionably look up at the Headmaster, though he waited to stand until everyone had settled. “I’m sure you are all wondering why I have delayed the feast,” started Dumbledore with a dream-like smile. He was answered by a slightly impatient, but mostly confused murmur from the students, to which he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I promise,” continued the elderly wizard, “I bring nothing but good news tonight.”

        A patient silence followed, only interrupted by an echoing pair of footsteps, drawing everyone’s attention to the entrance opposite Dumbledore. There entered Minerva McGonagall, holding, oddly, the Sorting Hat, as she sauntered purposefully towards the staff table. At first glance, Harry half expected to find a line of yet-to-be-sorted first years trailing nervously behind her, and while that was not the case, she _was_ preceded by someone. Harry, like all of his peers, had not been expecting to see the Intruder.

        Aulani Kalawai’a was just as shocked as the people she believed to be apart of a fictional story. She had expected to be sorted, of course, but in the privacy of the Headmaster’s office, where she could then slip into her classes with minimal attention drawn to her. She was _not_ expecting a sorting ceremony - for her alone.

        “Harry, is that - ?” But Hermione didn’t have to finish her question, as Harry had answered her with a curt nod. Both Ron and Hermione’s eyes went wide, becoming slightly fearful. The Intruder, the unknown, the _threat_ was _real._ And she was _here._

        The people of Hogwarts, students and staff alike, watched in silent awe as the ethnic girl walked behind McGonagall, stopping briefly at the door as she realized that hundreds of eyes were on her. _This is not how things were supposed to happen,_ she thought to herself as she continued her walk behind McGonagall, eyes fixed on the ground. _I was supposed to blend in._

        But apparently, Dumbledore had had other plans. He began his speech as Aulani had reached the staff table, and was forced to turn and face the mass of students with McGonagall and Dumbledore by her side. “This year, you all get to be apart of an experience that has, before now, been almost unheard of at Hogwarts. I would like to introduce you all to a miss Aulani Kalawai’a, Hogwarts’ first exchange student.”

        The crowd erupted into a torrent of whispers at this information. Hermione and Ron silently stared at Harry, who, at the moment, was having trouble breathing. _How could Dumbledore do this?_ he thought. _How could he welcome in an intruder?_

        “Miss Kalawai’a is an American Ilvermorny student who will be joining the sixth years of whichever house she is sorted into, and I expect you all to be very welcoming to her. Without further ado. . . .” Dumbledore nodded to McGonagall, who, after obtaining a permissive look from the exchange student, placed the Sorting Hat upon the American’s head.

        Never before has Harry seen the Sorting Hat take so long in deciding where to place a student - _no one_ has. Even McGonagall was beginning to look worried, thinking, perhaps, that something had gone wrong. Harry Potter was simply awaiting the inevitable squeal of the Hat, waiting, so impatiently, for the word _Slytherin_ to fall from its mouth. How could the Intruder _not_ be at a time like this? She _has_ to have connections to Voldemort - it was the only thing that even remotely made sense to Harry. He thought of no other reason why someone would want to come to Hogwarts from the safety of America while Voldemort was gaining power again.

        But Harry was once again surprised.

        “Hufflepuff!”  


	9. h u f f l e p u f f s

****_Hufflepuff._

_Hufflepuff was good._ Aulani knew that, in Hufflepuff, she could easily slip into the background and blend in - she was no Nymphadora Tonks or Newt Scamander. She was at Hogwarts only with the intention of appearing normal until Dumbledore and McGonagall figured out a way to get her home, and Hufflepuff was the perfect place to disappear.

        The cheers from her peers were hesitant at first, but the Hufflepuff table seemed to live up to its title of acceptance, and graciously welcomed her to their house. She sat beside a group of people who appeared to be her age, and moments later, food covered the table. Aulani, now settled with a secure house and way to fit in, was finally able to admire the magic of Hogwarts, and of this world - she’s read about it, countless times, but to actually _see_ it, to actually _be apart of it,_ was a completely different, completely magical experience. She looked up to the enchanted ceiling, out across the food-filled tables, and around at the witches and wizards surrounding her, and couldn’t hold back the giggle that happily fell from her lips. _Finally,_ she thought, _a moment I can enjoy._

        “Do you have a Great Hall like this?” spoke the boy sitting across from her, a boy who looked oddly familiar. “At Ilvermorny?”

        “Similar,” Aulani assumed. She wouldn’t know, of course - she wasn’t _actually_ a transfer. All she knew about Ilvermorny was what she’d read about in JK Rowling’s supplementary writings, and that wasn’t much. “But this is _Hogwarts,_ you know? This is a classic.”

        The boy sat opposite of her, dressed in Hufflepuff robes (as everyone around him), grinned at the transfer student before him. He was desperately trying to see past the thought that stood out not only to Harry Potter and his friends, but to everyone: that this girl was somehow connected to Voldemort. He liked to believe that being sorted into Hufflepuff would eliminate such an assumption, but there was always the case of Manami Cross. Still, he smiled, and offered her the bowl of potatoes she had been eyeing. “I’m Ernie Macmillan,” he told her.

        Aulani nodded at the name, now understanding why she had recognized him as she smiled at the boy. Ernie was a good guy, like she remembered most Hufflepuffs to be. These people, while vital to the story, were minor characters, and the repercussions from befriending them would be minimal, so she allowed herself to be comfortable around them.

        “Is it true that one of your founders was a _Muggle?”_ spoke an obnoxious blonde boy to Ernie’s right, catching the attention of pretty much all of those around them. Aulani tried not to laugh as she notice Ernie rolling his eyes.

        “Yeah,” she answered, taking a bite of ham. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t eaten since her arrival in this time period, but Rory and Eleanora were more accustomed to smaller meals, and Aulani couldn’t bring herself to ask for seconds that morning and afternoon. “James Steward - but we call them No-Majs in America.”

        “No-Majs?” questioned the girl sitting beside Aulani. “Why do you call them that?”

        “No-Maj,” Aulani said again, as if this would clarify things for the girl. “You know, non-magical. A No-Maj,” she noticed, of course, that those surrounding her were looking at her like she was insane (maybe she _was,_ but not because she had a different name for Muggle). “Honestly, it makes more sense to me. Why do you call them Muggles? Where did that come from?”

        The brunette thought about it for a moment, then nodded her head with a smile. “I’ll give you that - I have no idea. I’m Megan Jones, by the way.” Aulani gladly shook her outstretched hand.

        The sixth year Hufflepuffs (and Zacharias Smith, an obnoxious fifth year) spent the rest of their dinner asking Aulani various questions about the States (which she answered to the best of her ability, not knowing much about the United States in the 90s, and knowing even less about the magical United States, except from what she had seen in _Fantastic Beasts_ ) and answering Aulani’s questions about the UK and Hogwarts. They provided her with a place where she felt welcome, and she couldn’t be more glad to have been sorted into Hufflepuff.

        It wasn’t until the end of dinner that Aulani had noticed Harry Potter staring at her from across the room. “I see you’ve already caught Potter’s attention,” commented Ernie, who had walked around to her after they had finished their meal. He was their year’s Prefect, and was therefore automatically her honorary tour guide (though he would have volunteered anyway). “I can’t imagine he’s a big fan of strangers, but it’s understandable, after what he’s been through. Have you heard of him?”

        Aulani stood with Ernie, watching as Harry Potter pretended to be occupied, now under the uncomfortable gazes of the two Hufflepuffs. “Who hasn’t?” she responded.

        “He’s not a bad bloke,” Ernie continued. “Classic Gryffindor, though.”

        Ernie and Aulani had been the last of the sixth-years to leave the Great Hall, but she didn’t mind walking with him. He was a very nice and friendly guy, reminding her vaguely of a friend of hers from school, which was a great comfort to her. As they walked, (slowly, due to their common room’s close proximity to the Great Hall) Ernie informed her of basic rules, most of which she knew, but a few that she did not.

        “. . .and you can’t go into the Forbidden Forest - hence the name.” Aulani chuckled as they reached the end of the stairs. They came upon a brightly lit corridor decorated with several different cheerful paintings, most of which contained food, and, being a fan of both food and painting, Aulani felt very comfortable there. Before they could venture much further, Ernie stopped her, looking cautiously towards the end of the hall.

        Aulani followed his gaze curiously, watching as a very large painting of a bowl of fruit (the entrance to the kitchens) creaked open, allowing a girl to step out. She was average height, with short, jet black hair and a very pale face. For a moment, Aulani thought that maybe this girl was a Slytherin, explaining why Ernie had stopped them - but the sight of the girl’s Hufflepuff robes immediately threw her off.

        “Ernie - ?” Aulani began to question, but with a small shake of his head, Ernie let her know that now was not the time to ask questions. Aulani had, however unintentionally, caught the attention of the lone Hufflepuff at the end of the corridor. With a quick glare, she moved to a pile of barrels, tapping on them and causing one of them to open to a doorway, into which she disappeared. Once again alone in the corridor, Aulani questionably turned to the Prefect beside her. “Ex girlfriend?” she questioned.

        Ernie turned to her with a look of disgust. _“That_ was Manami Cross. You do _not_ want to cross her.” She let out a chuckle, thinking for a moment that that was only a play on her name, but from the look on Ernie’s face, it wasn’t. “I’m serious, Aulani. Her whole family’s Death Eaters - and _top ranking_ ones, too.” Out of sheer luck, Aulani has yet to come across a Death Eater, and she was beyond glad, not only because she would be seen as a valuable asset to Voldemort, but also because she was a Muggle (or at least she thought she was) and she knew what Death Eaters did to Muggles. “Have you heard of the Rosner-Conally Massacre?” Ernie continued. Nervously, Aulani shook her head. “Two Muggle-born Aurors and their entire families were _slaughtered -_ by Cross’ aunt and uncle.”

        “Are you serious? _Recently?”_

        “Merlin, no,” Ernie replied. “This was a few years after You-Know-Who disappeared, but they did recently escape Azkaban. And just at the beginning of this month, Cross got into a row with Hannah, one of my best friends, and three days later, Hannah's mum died, and not one of us thinks it’s a coincidence.”

        Immediately, Aulani saw the correlation as far-fetched, and was able to determine that about half of Ernie’s speculations of Cross were just that: speculations. Aulani hated rumors, having been the victim of them many times herself, but she didn’t judge Ernie for what he thought of Cross, just as she would hold judgement of Manami Cross until she actually met her - but as she had seen in the characters in the very book she appears to be stuck in - in characters like Sirius and Regulus Black, Severus Snape, and even Draco Malfoy - a bad background does not correlate with bad person. If anyone could see that, she would have thought it to be the Hufflepuffs, but apparently she was wrong.

        “Trust me, Aulani,” continued Ernie, looking warningly into her eyes. “It’d probably be best to keep your distance.”

        Aulani had a knack for not listening to people.  


	10. c r o s s

****Aulani learned very quickly that Hannah Abbott was a vital member of Hufflepuff, and her absence (still fresh in everyone's minds) was like missing the vital piece of a puzzle. Without her, Hufflepuffs, the people known for their ability to find, felt lost. So it was fair to say that there would be some resentment held against the girl that had come just in time to replace her.

        She was exposed to this the minute she entered the Hufflepuff common room with Ernie. It was a very homey, comfortable common room, filled with decorations of yellow, plants in the round windows, and a portrait of Helga Hufflepuff above the fireplace. And though Aulani knew she would normally feel comfortable in a place like this, something felt off. It was then that she notice a boy with a very wide chin glaring over at the pair of them.

        "Already replaced her, have you?" the boy accused, causing the smile on Ernie's face to quickly drop. The bustling room, filled with Hufflepuffs of all years happily chatting with their friends, fell abruptly silent at the brunette's words.

        Ernie paused for a moment, watching cautiously as his best friend marched over to them. "Justin," he attempted to console, his voice just above a whisper. "It's not like that."

        "It's not like that?" his friend repeated mockingly. Aulani wanted nothing more in that moment than to disappear. "Hannah's been gone all of two weeks, and the first new person that comes along to replace her - " he gestured angrily towards the American, to which Ernie stepped daringly forward.

        "You can't blame this on Aulani," Ernie insisted. Justin looked as though he wanted to respond, but held back, glaring once more at Ernie before he walked away, disappearing behind a round door that Aulani assumed led to the Boys' Dormitory. The entire room was watching the abandoned two carefully, as if waiting to see if something more dramatic would happen, but after nothing did, the atmosphere slowly went back to its previous state. Ernie turned to Aulani apologetically. "He's not usually like that," he started, still recovering from the argument. "Justin's just still upset about Hannah. We all are."

        Ernie led Aulani over to Megan, before quickly excusing himself, hurrying out of the common room altogether. The time traveler looked after him as he went, feeling very sympathetic. From both the books and the interactions she has had so far, Aulani was able to infer that Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley shared a relationship that practically mirrored that of the Golden Trio, and though she didn't know them well, it physically pained her to see a group of friends so brutally torn apart. "He'll be alright," assured Megan, noticing Aulani's worry. "He and Justin have been arguing a lot lately, it's not your fault." Aulani looked thankfully at the hazel-eyed Hufflepuff, a character who was hardly, if at all, mentioned in the books. JK Rowling had paid such close attention to detail in her novels, but due to the fact that she was following the story of Harry Potter, there was a world of characters that didn't get the recognition they deserved. Megan Jones, an extremely compassionate and welcoming girl, was one such character. "Come on," she continued with a smile, taking Aulani's arm. "I'll show you the dormitories."

        Aulani followed her through a round, wooden door on the opposite side of the room, which lead to an earthy hallway that fittingly resembled a badger's tunnel. On the left were small windows towards the top of the short wall, which from the outside of the castle, would be an inch or so above the grass. On the right were seven doors, one, presumably, for each year. Megan led her to the last one.

        "We have four - well, _three_ roommates," she said, opening the door. "Susan, Leanne, and - "

        "Jones, who is that?"

        Aulani looked up to find the same east Asian girl who had, just moments ago, glared so hatefully at herself and Ernie. She stood from her bed at the far corner of the room, a book in hand, only a finger keeping her place. Megan turned back to Aulani with a tired smile. " - and Manami," she finished. "You weren't at dinner?" Megan questioned Manami Cross.

        Her eyes narrowed. _"Obviously,"_ she continued, venom in her voice that rivaled that of a Slytherin. _Her whole family's Death Eaters._ "Now, who _is_ that?"

        "This is Aulani Kala - " she started, her eyebrows furrowing a bit. "Kala - "

        "Kalawai'a," Aulani finished for Megan, who sent her a mixed apologetic and thankful look, to which Aulani responded with a silent shrug. She was used to people having trouble pronouncing her name, in fact, she was extremely surprised at how well McGonagall and Dumbledore had spoken it.

        Megan smiled and turned back to Cross. "She's a transfer student from Ilvermorny. Just arrived today."

        "Ilvermorny, huh?" responded Cross, leaning against a bedpost, arms folded across her chest.

        "Manami's a transfer student, too," Megan continued to Aulani. "Well, technically."

        "Shut it, Jones," Cross responded angrily, taking in intimidating step toward the friendly Hufflepuff, who only playfully rolled her eyes. Megan was, apparently, one of the few people that wasn't afraid of Manami Cross. "She doesn't need to know that."

        Cross turned her back to them, retreating back to her bed at the far corner, next to the fireplace, where she sat, and reopened her book, which, Aulani noticed, was _The Great Gatsby_ by F.Scott Fitzgerald, a Muggle. "I didn't know there were any other transfers," Aulani said inquisitively.

        "Most people don't count her, because she only attended Mahoutokoro when she was seven - "

        "Merlin, Jones, you say another word about me and I _will_ hex you," hissed Cross, pulling out her wand for good measure. This was the only thing that caused a brief falter in Megan's confidence, and led Aulani to assume that Manami Cross was one to keep her word.

        "No need for that," Megan consoled. "I'll stop. I was just about to go wash up. Aulani, did you want to stay here and get settled?" she asked the American, gesturing to the six beds positioned around the room, two of which appeared to be unoccupied. She looked at Cross for a moment, who had gone back to reading her book, portraying that she was very much uninterested in her roommates. Aulani nodded to Megan. "Alright then," she smiled. "I'll be back soon, and I imagine Leanne and Susan will be in soon as well." She gave the new student a reassuring pat on the arm, before retreating back through the wooden door.

        Aulani turned back to the earthy, cozy little room that was lit only by the two fireplaces at the end of the room, the many candles spread throughout (many of which smelled of vanilla, Aulani's favorite scent), and the moonlight shining through the several small windows and large one between the two fireplaces. Many different plants were potted about the room, both magical and non, giving the room a sense of life that she had not seen depicted in the books concerning the other dormitories. For a while she stood in silent awe, still very thankful that she had been sorted into Hufflepuff.

        The two spare beds, made up neatly with white sheets, were both next to and across from Manami Cross, providing further evidence that the girl was not well liked. Quietly, Aulani picked up her single bag of possessions (all of which were hand-me-downs from Rory), which had been left for her at the door of the dormitory, and glided over to the bed across from Cross, next to the second fireplace. The moment she had put her bag down, the feared Hufflepuff spoke up. "I wouldn't choose that one," she said, looking up from her book. "Used to be Abbott's. Bones would throw a hissy fit if she saw you there."

        Accepting her advice, Aulani took her bag back up and made her way over to the other unoccupied bed, which was significantly closer to Cross. She opened the empty dresser to the right of the bed, and began to put away her things. By the time she was done, she looked up to find Manami Cross staring at her.

        "Of all the schools you could have chosen to transfer to," Cross started, sitting up. Aulani couldn't help but glance down at the girl's left forearm, which, at the moment, was covered by her sleeve. "You've decided to come to the one that's about to be stuck in the middle of a war," she promulgated, watching the American closely. Aulani stood stiffly for a moment, before hesitantly sitting on her own bed. "Now, you don't look like an idiot," she continued, and Aulani didn't know if she should take that as a compliment. "So I think you came here for a reason, and I think it's pretty obvious what that reason is." Manami Cross, like so many others, thought Aulani Kalawai'a had some sort of connection to the dark wizard was slowly taking control of Great Britain, but Aulani was unsure of what Cross truly thought about that (untrue) fact. All she said on the matter was, "Don't expect any kind of help from me."

        "Is it true," Aulani started bravely, hesitantly, "what they say about you? About your family?"

        Something dark overtook Manami Cross' features, and she said nothing more than this: "People believe what they want to believe."  


	11. l e s s o n s

****Silence was truly a terrible thing to hear when you’re being sorted, because silence meant something was terribly, terribly wrong. Everyone had thought that all that time had been the Sorting Hat deciding what house Aulani Kalawai’a belonged to, but that had not been the problem. The problem was much worse: the Sorting Hat was not working, and the only time it would not work is if the head it sat upon had no magical capabilities. For what had felt like an eternity, Hogwarts students, their newest exchange student, and the ancient Sorting Hat had all sat in complete silence.

        And then, as if it were a transmission finally being picked up on a radio, the Sorting Hat had spoken to the girl. “You don’t belong here,” it had said, which had immediately caused Aulani to panic. “Never, in my hundreds of years of existence, have I come across a student such as yourself, if you’d like to call yourself that.”

 _It knows,_ Aulani had thought in a panic. _It knows and it’s about to tell everyone._

        But she had been surprised. “However, I know why you’re here, and I understand the importance of the situation. Very unusual, indeed,” the Hat had continued. “Your situation, yes, but yourself as well. You are the first I have sorted to have all of the prized qualities of the founders. The determination of Salazar; the utter bravery of Godric; even the wit of Rowena. They’d all be proud to have you, you know. But none as much as Helga. Your loyalty to your family is unmatched by anything I’ve come across, as is your loyalty to yourself. That is a very unique quality, time traveler.”

        Her eyes had been tightly shut, afraid that if she had opened them, she would have looked out to a sea of bewildered faces who had heard the Hat’s utterance. She had known, of course, that the Hat spoke to people telepathically, only speaking aloud during its song, or when it had made its decisions, but the fear had still been present. For all she knew, it could have been completely different for a Muggle - or, sort-of-Muggle (she was completely unsure of what she was).

        “Yes,” it said with confidence. “You will fit in well in Helga’s House until it is time for your departure. _Hufflepuff!”_

        “Miss, uh - ” spoke Professor Pomona Sprout the morning following the odd sorting. “Miss Kala - ” she stuttered, unsure of how to properly pronounce the girl’s name. She smiled, and went with what was a bit easier. “Aulani. Is it alright if I call you that?”

        Aulani nodded encouragingly. “We’re usually addressed by our first names in America,” _at least in Muggle schools,_ “so it's okay with me.”

        Sprout smiled once again at the newest addition to her house, believing that Aulani was well placed in Hufflepuff. She handed the exchange student a folded slip of paper. “Your timetable, my dear. Usually I would go over your options with you and get you settled in classes to help you with your future career, but because you’re coming from a different school, Dumbledore has divided up your classes for you,” she told her sweetly, causing Aulani to smile up at her Head of House. “Glad to see he’s put you in Herbology. It’ll be a pleasure to have you.”

        “Thank you, Professor,” she responded, immediately taking a liking to the Herbology teacher. With one last smile, Sprout made her way towards the teacher’s tables.

        Megan was sat beside Aulani, the two being some of the very few already at breakfast. It was early - maybe six thirty. Aulani had hardly slept at all the previous night, having the magic-equivalent of jet-lag to blame, and Megan had said she had always been an early riser. When the two had left their dormitory, Susan Bones and Leanne Fitchett had still been sound asleep, but Manami Cross had been long gone. Aulani had expected to find her at breakfast, and maybe even find the courage to talk to her, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. Megan hadn’t seemed surprised, so Aulani hadn’t asked. “What’re your classes?” Megan asked after she had finished a bite of oatmeal.

        Curious, and honestly a bit scared, Aulani unfolded the parchment and allowed herself and Megan to look over the list. “Private lessons with McGonagall?” she questioned quietly, mostly to herself.

        “Three times a week, too,” Megan observed. “What’s that all about?”

        “No idea,” Aulani lied.

        “Looks like we’ve got Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures together. Those are both today. Oh,” she said, looking closer at the exchange student’s timetable. “You’ve got History of Magic first period. Tough luck there; that’s gotta be one of the most boring classes offered here.”

        Megan had continued talking, but Aulani’s attention had been drawn elsewhere as Professor McGonagall had walked past their table on her way out, Aulani’s copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ under her arm. Aulani stood just as Ernie had joined the two of them. He looked a bit hurt at this, but Aulani forced herself to ignore it. “I’ll - I’ll be right back.” Before either of her fellow Hufflepuffs could say a word, Aulani had taken off towards the entrance of the Great Hall, following after McGonagall. She turned the corner sharply, her vision so tunneled that she ran right into the protagonist of the story - this time, literally.

        She had brushed herself off quickly, muttering a quick apology, before she rushed past him, calling after McGonagall, reminding Harry very much of the first time he had come across the Intruder. “Was that the new Hufflepuff?” said Luna Lovegood, who had been walking in with Harry.

        “Yeah,” Harry responded bitterly, watching as the Intruder finally caught up with McGonagall. “It was.”

        “Miss Kalawai’a, there is no running in the halls,” was the first thing McGonagall had said to her, which made Aulani want to laugh at its sheer normality. As the student caught her breath, she and McGonagall continued on to her classroom, of which she opened with the wave of her hand. “Did you get your timetable from Pomona?”

        “Yeah,” she said with a deep breath. “That’s actually one of the things I wanted to ask you about.” The two of them entered Transfiguration classroom, a large room with high ceilings and tall windows, very fitting for McGonagall. She followed the professor past the rows of desks to her desk at the back, where she placed her things, Aulani’s book among them.

        “Wondering about the lessons, are you?” questioned the professor, turning to look at her with an unwavering gaze for the first time that morning. Since their meeting with Dumbledore two nights before, McGonagall had been civil with the Intruder, acting no more than professional; but there was something just below the surface - something rotten. There was not a sense of trust between the two, and Aulani feared that there never would be. She had always so admired Minerva McGonagall, so it stung to be hated by her.

        “Yes,” Aulani answered, shifting uncomfortably under her careful watch. “Three times a week?”

        “Starting tomorrow,” McGonagall answered. “Mainly to help me with this,” she continued, holding up the mysterious textbook. “But if you’ll look closer, you’ll notice our lessons will take place before Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, which are your only classes besides my own that require the extensive use of a wand. This is no coincidence.”

        She paused at this, glancing down at the wand Rory had given to the time traveler, just visibly sticking out of her Hufflepuff robes. McGonagall had to swallow to keep herself from showing emotion, getting a rush of memories concerning the wand’s previous owner. Dakota Aldeheim, along with the woman that he wed, had been one of her favorite students, one of the few that she had kept a friendship with following his graduation. His funeral was unfortunately one of her freshest memories.

        “Aurora told me about your concern with the wand, and frankly, I disagree with her,” she continued. “Aulani, I don’t think you’re a witch.”

        McGonagall had expected her to be terrified at this - to fight her about it, saying that it wasn’t possible, that she _had_ to be a witch, but Aulani had done the exact opposite: she let out a sigh of relief. “I thought I was the only one.”

        The professor was taken aback. “You don’t think so?”

        Aulani leaned against one of the desks, shaking her head. “It’s been the oddest thing - I know how magic works, I’ve told you I’ve read about it, and whenever someone’s used a spell on me, it’s worked for a moment or two, but then the effects just go away. It doesn’t make any sense. And yesterday, Rory was trying to teach me a couple of spells, just to get me caught up a little - but it wouldn’t work. I couldn’t do anything,” the Hufflepuff exasperated, talking with her hands, as she often did. McGonagall was listening cautiously, in horrific awe at what she was describing - she’s never heard anything like it before. “And the Sorting Hat - ”

        “What happened?” McGonagall cut in, having been very curious about her sorting from the moment the ancient Hat had called out _Hufflepuff._

        “It didn’t work," she said, looking up to see the shocked expression of her professor. “At least not at first. And - and it said something that kind of shocked me.”

        “What did it say?”

        Aulani looked down at her feet, not being able to find the bravery to look McGonagall in the eye as she told her one of the most curious things she had heard since entering this fictional world. “It said it knew why I was here.”  


	12. s t a r s

****_Rory -_

_I think you may have been right._

        “How was it?” Ernie said, meeting Aulani outside of her History of Magic lesson. After her conversation with McGonagall, the exchange student had returned to breakfast and apologized for leaving so abruptly. Ernie had easily forgiven her, having done the very same thing the previous night. Megan had to run off to her Ruins class shortly after, but Ernie, having a free period, had walked her to her first class.

        “Interesting,” she answered as they began walking to their Potions class in the dungeons. At her response, Ernie gave her a bewildered look. “What?” she questioned defensively. “I’ve always liked history, and it’s really interesting to see it from another culture’s perspective.” That was a lie, of course. She had found it interesting because it was _magic._

        Ernie laughed and shook his head. “Have you met Hermione Granger yet? I think the two of you would be great friends.”

        Aulani said nothing, knowing that even if she _would_ potentially be great friends with Hermione, it _couldn’t_ happen - she was too vital to the story. As the Hufflepuffs continued silently to their next class, it was impossible to ignore the faces that turned their way, impossible to ignore the students who looked at her curiously, and those who looked at her cautiously.

_I don’t think this will blow over in a week, but not for the reasons I anticipated. I should have considered the idea that the people here might think I have something to do with You-Know-Who. I really shouldn’t have come in blind._

        “Ignore them, Lani,” Ernie said loudly as the pair passed a group of condescending Gryffindors, who were giving Aulani some particularly nasty looks. “Some people are just too arrogant to look past their own stupid suspicions.”

_On the bright side, I was sorted into Hufflepuff, and befriended a girl named Megan and a boy named Ernie, both of which have taken it upon themselves to make me feel welcome. I’m so grateful for the people I have come across in my time here, yourself and Nora included._

        “Thank you, Ernie,” Aulani said sincerely. Ernie’s blue eyes flashed to her for a moment, before he looked away, a slight blush across his cheeks.

        “It’s no problem.”

        The two walked into the bustling, yet small Potions classroom. Aulani realized, almost immediately, how familiar this class was, and she had the sudden urge to find Dumbledore to ask to switch classes. The first, glaring face she happened to see was, of course, Harry Potter, his Half-Blood Prince book in hand.

        Before Aulani could turn and walk back out of the class, however, Professor Slughorn caught sight of her. “Ah, so I do get to teach the exchange student! Come on up here, dear, we’ll get you some supplies.”

        Aulani turned to Ernie nervously, but he gave her an encouraging look, and left her with the professor, instead, heading over to the table he shared with the three Gryffindors, dragging along an extra chair for Aulani. “You know, it’s rude to stare,” Ernie said bitterly to Harry, Ron and Hermione, who seemed to be watching Aulani like hawks. “She’s a nice girl - it’s not like she’s been sorted into Slytherin.” Harry said something under his breath, and Ernie, being very protective of his new friend, lashed out at him. “Want to say that a little louder?”

        “I wouldn’t trust her so easily, Ernie,” Hermione tried to reason with the angry Hufflepuff, stopping Harry from angering him more. “We don’t know why she’s here,” she whispered.

        “Yes, we do - she’s here through an exchange program because she thought it’d be cool to get an education here at Hogwarts for a year,” he hissed, his eyes narrowed. The Ravenclaws a table over began to look over at them, but Ernie hardly noticed. “It’s people acting like you are that are going to make her regret that. I thought you, of all people, Hermione, would _encourage_ something like what Aulani’s doing,” Ernie continued, causing Hermione to shrink back a little because he was right, completely right. “It’s a shame,” Ernie sat back in his seat, ignoring Ron’s glaring, “I was just telling her how the two of you would be good friends.”

        “Who in their right mind would want to come to Britain when Voldemort’s on the rise?” Harry cracked. He just didn’t understand how someone as smart and respectable as Ernie could be so blinded by a person that he _absolutely should_ be suspicious of.

        “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

_But there are also so many who so obviously don’t want me here. Harry Potter, the goddamn Chosen One, is at the top of that list._

        Harry looked baffled as Aulani hesitantly approached the group, a handful of supplies in her arms. Immediately, she assumed that Ernie had said something to them about the way they were glaring at her when they had come in, and she knew she would have to talk to him about that. But, nonetheless, Harry Potter glowered at her the moment he realized she had joined them.

_Remember how I told you that, where I’m from, this is all a book? Well, that book follows Harry Potter, and he’s been my number one reason for wanting to quietly slip into the background. If things are going to work out the way they’re supposed to, Harry can’t have any unplanned distractions, so, him hating me, or even noticing me, is a terrible mistake._

        “Hello,” Aulani started awkwardly, sitting in the extra chair she had seen Ernie drag over.

        “Aulani, this is Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and you already know Harry,” Ernie introduced, an obvious bitterness in his voice.

        “Right,” she answered with a small nod. “It’s nice to meet you all.” Ron nodded to her, forcing a smile; Hermione smiled as well, making her look very conflicted for a reason that Aulani didn’t know; Harry did nothing more than clench his teeth and look away.

_He has made it very clear to me, with every dirty look he’s sent my way, that I’m not welcome at Hogwarts, as if I don’t already know. I know I was never supposed to be here - at Hogwarts, in England, or in 1996. None of this was ever supposed to happen. It doesn’t make any sense whatsoever._

        Aulani turned away from the group, feeling both dejected and rejected. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley had always been such prevalent figures in her life. She grew up with these characters, they were what she came to as an escape from reality, they were her first friends, they were what she and her sister bonded over. Their names were the only ones other than her own that she thought she could still hear in her father’s voice. But Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and _especially_ Harry Potter, saw her as nothing more than a threat.

        Ernie was watching her worriedly, easily picking up on her desolateness. She provided him with a reassuring but obviously fake smile, and after returning one equally as fake, he turned to glare, again, at the Golden Trio.

        She decided it was best to look away from them entirely, her eyes roaming, instead, to the opposite side of the room, where she met a pair of pale eyes, already trained on her own. The Slytherin turned away.

        “Well, shall we get started on our Polyjuice Potions?”

        “Were your classes in America much different than the ones here?” Megan asked that night at dinner. Aulani was beside her, strategically sitting with her back to the Golden Trio, who, without a doubt, were glancing at her every few minutes. Ernie was across from the girls, Justin by his side again, which lifted Aulani’s spirits considerably. The Muggle-born was not actively trying to talk to the girl of whom he still believed was replacing Hannah Abbott, but he was considerably less cynical, and Aulani saw that as progress.

        “Not really,” she replied, though she had no idea. “They’re pretty much the same.”

        “Really?” commented a dark-skinned boy named Wayne Hopkins that she had met earlier that day, a friendly smirk across his face. “You seemed kind of lost in Astronomy today.”

        She wasn’t lost - in fact, she was very skilled in Astronomy - she was just baffled at how much has been discovered in twenty years, and how limited the knowledge of space was in 1996. Even wizards, in this time, laughed at the idea of a human being - magic or no magic - on the surface of Mars. They didn’t know that, in her time, NASA already had a mission in motion with the goal of getting humans to their neighboring planet in the 2030s.

        Conversation broke out between her fellow Hufflepuffs, luckily, not centered around her for her first time since her arrival at the school. She allowed her mind to wander, her eyes traveling to the staff table, as she tried to remember the names and faces of all her teachers thus far. Professor Binns, absent from the dinner table, was easy enough to recognize, considering he was a ghost. Professor Slughorn, currently in an animated yet somewhat one-sided conversation with who Aulani assumed to be Madame Pomfrey, looked just like Jim Broadbent, who played him in the movies, only larger in width, and with the addition of a large, grey mustache. Her Astronomy Professor, Professor Sinistra, a young, beautiful witch of African descent, sat at the end closest to the Slytherin table, quietly eating and occasionally contributing to a conversation between three other professors. Hagrid was easy to spot, sitting a good three feet taller than all the other professors, looking exceedingly large due to his placement next to the Ravenclaw Head of House.

        When she glanced towards the center of the table, she fell under the gaze of Minerva McGonagall, who was looking at her as she would look at her book, trying to figure her out.

_Oddly, the Sorting Hat claims to know why I’m here, but when McGonagall and I tried to question it further, it wouldn’t say a word. I’ve read the books multiple times, and I can’t think of any situation that would require the help of someone from the future._

        “Have you ever been to a game, Aulani?” asked Ernie, bringing the exchange student back into a conversation that she had not been listening to.

        “Quidditch?” she assumed. Ernie nodded, taking a bite of his dinner. “I haven’t.”

        After finishing his bite, Ernie smiled at her. “Well then you _have_ to come out to the game this weekend.”

        A smile spread across Aulani’s face at this. She’s always wanted to see a Quidditch game (not as much as she’s wanted to play in one, though), and the thought of going to see one with her new friends excited her. “I’d love to.”

_So at this point, I don’t really care about what the Hat said - I came here by some accidental magic, and I’m getting back home without putting anything in jeopardy._

        “Are you sure you don’t want me to show you the way?” cautioned Megan, only moments after she had given Aulani directions to the Owlery.

        “That’s alright,” she assured. “I’ve gotta learn my way around here some time. I could use the walk, anyway.”

        With only a little more convincing, Megan consented to Aulani’s adventure, and she left the Hufflepuff common room alone, a letter in hand.

_I hope you’re doing well. Tell Nora I said hello._

_Aulani Kalawai’a_

        The day had been incredibly exhausting, but sleep still seemed to be out of the question. Where she was from, it would only be approaching noon, but here, it was almost ten o’clock at night. Aulani sighed, re-approaching the castle from the Owlery. She looked up at the stars above her, and on such a clear night, she could almost hear her sister’s voice, ranting on and on about the arrogance of human beings. _With a universe that big, with the thousands upon thousand of stars out there, each at the center of their own solar system, how could anyone possibly think that we’re the only living things in the entire goddamn universe?_ She almost laughed - her sister was so focused on discovering unknown life outside of their planet, that she didn’t even notice the hidden magical beings living among them.

        Homesickness struck her harder than she ever imagined it would, and, in that moment, she wanted to do anything that would bring her closer to her family. So she did the only reasonably thing she could think of. She turned to the stars.

        She knew she was venturing far from her common room, and she knew that curfew was approaching, but the benefit of being the new person at school was that, even if she _did_ get caught, she could always say that she had gotten lost. So, up the stairs she marched, and in no time at all, she was at the top of the Astronomy tower.

        “What the hell are you doing here?”


	13. h u m a n

****Aulani should have been scared for a number of reasons, the top being that she was standing only a few feet away from a Death Eater; but she was just annoyed. She’s been at the end of another’s wand more times than the number of days she has spent in this world - and she swore that if she heard _petrificus totalus_ one more time, she would throw either herself or her attacker (no matter how important they were to the story) from the top of this tower.

 _“Jesus Christ,”_ she drawled, an obvious irritation in her voice as she continued onto the terrace, not acknowledging the weapon aimed at her in even the slightest. “You guys _really_ don’t like Americans, do you?”

        The boy shifted his grip on his wand, but knew better than to lower it. “Why are you up here?” he demanded.

        Aulani sighed as she came to the logical conclusion behind the Slytherin’s hostility towards her. Apparently, it was a school-wide belief that the exchange student had something to do with Voldemort. She leaned against the railing of the tower and stared up at the night sky, completely disregarding the fact that there was still a wand pointed at her back. “Same reason as you, I imagine,” the American answered, her eyes fixed on the night sky, the only thing other than her reflection that seemed real. “To look at the stars,” she paused, looking over at the fearsome boy. “To think.”

        Draco Malfoy, like so many of the others, held a great resemblance to the actor that played him, unfortunately fitting the sickly look he had in the sixth movie to a T. She remembered Leigh, her best friend from her proper time period, telling her how it was his portrayal in the Half Blood Prince that caused her to fall in love with him. Leigh had always had a soft spot for the broken, which quite frankly, had been the reason they had become friends in the first place.

        “Can’t you do that somewhere else?” Draco hissed, taking a step forward.

        With an over exaggerated eye roll, Aulani turned to the Slytherin. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was _your_ tower,” she countered, her sarcasm hitting him like Granger’s fist in his third year. He clenched his teeth in a snarl, appalled that a _Hufflepuff_ was speaking to him like this (but he quickly remembered his theory that she had overpowered the Sorting Hat to throw people off). “You can put your wand away, you know,” she said, sounding much more like a Hufflepuff. She held up both her hands and told him, “I’m unarmed.”

        Reluctantly, Draco did as he was told, figuring it best _not_ to make more of a scene of this interaction. He took a deep breath, his eyes fixated on the girl before him, one who looked so innocent as she stargazed, a small frown on her face. She looked too innocent to be a Death Eater, but frankly, so did he. “What are you _really_ doing here?”

        “I’m _really_ just looking at the stars,” she answered, turning back to him. “I’m homesick - and the night sky’s the only thing that’s the same, no matter where you are.”

        Draco’s eyebrows furrowed as he took another step closer to her, leaning against the railing as well. He had to admit, he was intrigued - terrified, of course, that she may be reporting back to the Dark Lord (he _had_ just watched her walk back from the owlery) - but there was something incredibly _human_ about her, something that he normally refused to let himself see in people. “I’m Malfoy,” he said without really thinking about it.

        “I know,” Aulani said, likewise, not thinking about it. When she realized what she had said, though, she visibly paled, noticing the Slytherin’s head tilt towards her a little, surprised that she had known him. “Ernie warned me about you,” she quickly added, though it wasn’t true at all - Ernie had been too preoccupied with the Gryffindors to warn her about the Slytherins.

        “And you’re disregarding his warning?” Draco asked in almost a whisper, causing Aulani to look back up at him, though he was looking over the edge of the tower.

        “I like to make my own judgements about people,” she answered quietly. There was a pause that followed, and attempting to combat it, Aulani sat on the terrace, dangling her legs over the edge of the tower. Draco looked down at her incredulously, as if sitting was something that had never before crossed his mind. Aulani chuckled a little. “You can sit with me if you’d like.”

        The way his grey eyes flickered from her to the stairs made Aulani believe for a moment that he was about to run out of the room, so it surprised her a great deal when he crouched down and sat beside her. “I can’t believe I’m sitting with a Hufflepuff,” was all he said.

        She laughed a little. “You know, I’ve never really understood the tension between houses at Hogwarts,” she wondered aloud.

        “Do you not have houses at Ilvermorny?” Draco asked her, leaning back on his hands.

        “No, we do,” she replied. “But it’s just for friendly competition and dorms, really. We’re not nearly as divided as you all are.”

        “Each house has its reputation here,” he surmised bitterly. “Some are better than others.”

        Aulani looked at him for a while after he said this, trying to determine if he meant that to be prejudice to her house, or to his. Recognizing, hopefully accurately, a look of self-hatred on his face, she allowed herself to believe that she had skirted his days of bigotry, and had met him in the middle of his struggle with identity. She didn’t know if this was true - all she knew was that Draco Malfoy was both a Slytherin notorious for his poor treatment of his classmates and a newly initiated Death Eater; but in that moment, she couldn’t really take that into full account. He seemed too human. Aulani leaned closer to him, and spoke in a whisper, “You don’t have to live up to your reputation, you know.”

        Draco had a sunken feeling in his gut at her words, feeling as though she had just looked into his mind and spoken aloud the one thing he was so afraid to hear. What he was doing was so much easier if he _had_ to do it - if he didn’t have a choice. At this point, it was just easier to follow orders.

        Maybe _this_ was why the Dark Lord had sent this girl - to _test_ him, to see if Draco was truly loyal. While this was a thought that caused his throat to dry, it wasn’t something he could fully convince himself of. She seemed much too sincere, much too - _disconnected_ from this world. “It was Draco, right?”

        He gave her an odd look, knowing he hadn’t told her his first name, “Malfoy,” he corrected.

        “But Draco’s your first name?” she pushed. Draco’s odd look continued, but he hesitantly nodded. “Sorry, I’m just not used to calling people by their last names - it’s kinda weird to me. Culture shock, you know?”

        “It’s kind weird to have a total stranger call me by my first name,” Draco explained to her lightheartedly.

        Aulani smiled at him mischievously, pulling her legs up from the edge and folding them beneath her as she turned to face him fully. “I’ll tell you what,” she started, causing Draco to once again give her an odd look. “I’ll call you by your last name if you can pronounce _mine.”_

        A fitting smirk flashed across Draco’s lips as he mirrored her changed position. “I guess you’ll have to remind me of it, then,” he challenged, knowing that she would first have to tell him her name, which would make it a hell of a lot easier to repeat. She nodded contemplatively at this, reaching into her pocket to grab the pen she always had on her (a habit she hadn’t been able to break from her childhood). “What the bloody hell is that?”

        She followed his eyes to the pen she held in her hand - an object so normal that she hadn’t even thought twice about it. Involuntarily, she laughed. “You’ve seriously never seen a _pen_ before?” Aulani smiled. “I mean, I know you guys are old school here with your feathers and ink, but _seriously,_ it's, what, 1996? You guys can use a pen.”

        “You _write_ with that thing?” Draco said, almost sounding disgusted.

        “Yeah, here let me show you.” Before Draco could protest, Aulani reached out and grabbed his pale hand, turning it over so she could write on the back of it, only briefly acknowledging the fact that she was basically holding Draco Malfoy’s hand. He visibly winced as she brought the pen to his skin, as if he believed it would _hurt_ him. The corner of her lips quirked up as his expression dramatically changed from fear to curiosity at the smooth, almost soothing feeling of the pen across his skin, watching as she wrote out her name in her delicate and unique handwriting.

        When she let go of his hand, he immediately went to touch the ink, causing the last few letters of her name to smear a little. Remembering their bet (and a little disheartened that she had not _spoken_ her name, giving him the advantage), he squinted down at his hand. “Kala - ” he started, accurately pronouncing the first two syllables (though that wasn’t much of an accomplishment). “Kalawala?”

        Aulani looked at him as if he were crazy for a moment, before throwing her head back in laughter. “Where’d you pick up the extra _‘l’?”_ she cackled. “Oh God, you made it sound like some sort of marsupial.”

        “How do you pronounce it then? Kalawa - ”

        “Kalawai’a,” she told him, then repeated it slowly. “But, hey, call me Aulani,” the Hufflepuff concluded with a smirk. Draco had to hold back a smile.

        “Aulani,” he repeated, testing out the name. He watched as Aulani smiled, and it spread to him like a disease. For a moment as he sat with her, Draco felt happy - a feeling that he’s never truly been able to grasp. When he was younger, it was all about acting as his father would, striving to make him proud of a son that had constantly disappointed him. Now, happiness was the furthest thing from his mind - he thought of only his situation, of what he had to do, and how he had to do it alone. He had made a promise to himself at the beginning of the school year that he had no intention of breaking - _let no one hold you back_ (though it was really along the lines of _drag no one down with you_ ). So why was he letting himself be pulled into her gravity?  


	14. c o m f o r t a b l e

****“Does Hufflepuff normally. . . ”

        “Lose that badly?” Megan finished with a bit of a laugh. She and Aulani were walking back from the Quidditch pitch on the exchange student’s first Saturday at Hogwarts (her first Saturday in the wizarding world), a sense of utter comfortability between them, as if they had known each other for so much longer that only a few days. “Usually, we’ve been able to hold our own, but Ravenclaw’s unusually good this year.”

        “How long has Smith been captain?” Aulani asked curiously. “He seems to do a lot of, well, _yelling.”_

“That’s his thing, I guess - tough love,” she answered. “He started last year, after we lost Cedric.”

        It pained Aulani to hear the distress in her friend’s voice. She had forgotten that Cedric Diggory had been the Hufflepuff team captain at one point, and she suddenly felt terrible for bringing it up. “I’ve heard of him,” she said delicately, taking notice of the fact that Megan was no longer looking at her. “Cedric Diggory? You-Know-Who - ”

        “Yeah,” began Megan almost monotonously, her eyes never leaving the ground. “You-Know-Who killed him.” A long pause followed, a heavy feeling persistently growing in Aulani’s chest with each passing moment.

        She finally took the first step and spoke. “Did you know him well?”

        A small smile played on Megan’s lips as she nodded. “I played for him my third year. He was probably our best captain, definitely our best seeker,” she paused at this, and Aulani couldn’t stop the image of Cedric’s father screaming over his son’s lifeless body from replaying in her mind in almost a continuous loop. She’d only seen it in a movie and yet she cried nearly every time she watched it; she couldn’t imagine what it had been like to actually _see_ it - to actually have known, loved, and lost Cedric Diggory. “After the Triwizard Tournament, Professor Sprout asked me to play again, even offered me the position of captain, but I just couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right.”

        The time traveler rested a comforting hand on her friend’s back, not exactly knowing what to say. Normally, she was perfectly good at comforting people - she was usually the first person her friends back home would come to if something bad had happened, but now she was drawing a blank. Cedric Diggory was a casualty of war - one that was only necessary for shock value and proof of Voldemort’s rise to power. What could she say that wouldn’t only remind Megan of the war going on outside the walls of Hogwarts?

        “Do you guys have a team? At Ilvermorny?” Megan asked, changing the subject to something lighter. Aulani couldn’t help but notice the redness of Megan’s cheeks as she moved her hand away from her back.

        “No,” she answered.

        They weren’t two feet into the courtyard when Ernie, who had left the match just before them, ran up to the pair. “Megan,” he started, exasperated, when he reached them. “I completely forgot to tell you: we’ve got a Prefect meeting in about two minutes.”

        Megan’s eyes widened the same moment that a crease formed between Aulani’s eyebrows. _I didn’t know she was a Prefect, too,_ she thought. _I thought it was Ernie and -_ but then she understood. Apparently, Aulani wasn’t the _only_ person replacing Hannah Abbott. “Wow, okay,” Megan said in astonishment, turning to her friend with an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to go, then. See you at dinner?”

        Aulani smiled, and ushered the two of them on, feeling oddly like Harry Potter when Ron and Hermione were made Prefects. She watched as Ernie and Megan rushed off to their meeting, feeling hyper-aware of the fact that this was supposed to be fictional. Her two friends weren’t supposed to exist. Cedric’s death wasn’t supposed to affect someone as heavily as it did Megan. Aulani wasn’t even supposed to _be_ here. “I really am insane,” she spoke to herself quietly, turning away from the castle and instead making her way towards the infamous Black Lake.

        With her back to the castle, she was able to look out at the grounds and see something utterly normal for the first time since she’s arrived here. Granted, the landscape was much different from what she knew back home, but it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The greenery and cloudy skies were reminiscent of Glacier National Park in Montana, a place Aulani had visited with her family when she was a child. _It really is beautiful here,_ she thought, making a mental note to suggest to her mother that they visit Scotland when this was all over. _If this would ever be over._

        She only stopped her walk around the lake when she kicked up something that she knew wasn’t a stone. She glanced down curiously, finding an oddly shaped wand, one that she recognized, but couldn’t exactly place. Picking it up, she looked around for its owner, but found no one. “Is this someone’s?” she called out, wondering if maybe it was Harry, under his invisibility cloak. It wasn’t, of course.

        “Up here!” called out a particularly dreamy voice. Aulani moved beneath the branches of the tree that stood a few feet from her and glanced upwards, finding a girl with waist-long, platinum blonde hair among the tree limbs. She look incredulously in the girl’s misty blue eyes, in complete awe that she was actually meeting _Luna Lovegood._ “You have great timing; I’m in need of help,” said the Ravenclaw, gesturing to her foot, which Aulani realized was caught between two branches. “Could you - ?”

        “Oh yeah, of course,” Aulani said, quickly moving to help possibly her favorite character. Together, they successfully removed her foot from the branches and she climbed down from the tree. As she reached the ground, Luna winced slightly at the pressure put on her foot, causing Aulani to grab her upper arm in an attempt to steady the girl. “Are you alright?”

        “Yes, I’m fine,” she responded with a smile. “It’s just a little sore. I’m Luna,” she said, abruptly changing the subject, her hand stretched out to the exchange student. A grin broke out across Aulani’s face as she accepted the handshake.

        “Aulani,” she greeted. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’d you get stuck in the tree?”

        “Oh, I thought I saw a bowtruckle, so I climbed to to get a closer look.”

        Aulani’s eyes widened, remembering the friendly little creature from the movie she had seen before she was sent twenty years back in time. “I absolutely _adore_ bowtruckles!” the Hufflepuff exclaimed, causing a spark of excitement to ignite in Luna Lovegood’s eyes. It wasn’t everyday that she came across another student with an appreciation for magical creatures that mirrored her own. “Did you find it?”

        “Unfortunately not, it turned out to only be a non-magical insect that I think the Muggles call a praying mantis,” she answered with a disappointed nod.

        “That makes sense; I would make the same mistake, they do look pretty similar.”

        Luna smiled at Aulani, feeling very comfortable talking with her, which was odd. Most people avoided her, but the new Hufflepuff was actually _contributing_ to their conversation, instead of pretending to listen as not to hurt her feelings. “Are bowtruckles your favorite magical creatures?” she questioned, wishing to elongate their conversation.

        Aulani shook her head. “I’d have to say thunderbirds are my favorite, but bowtruckles are definitely in my top ten.”

        The Ravenclaw laughed a little. “That’s a very American response,” Luna noted, causing Aulani to nod, laughing with her.

        Harry noticed the two from the courtyard, and suddenly felt very protective. Luna was a very good friend of his, and he did not want her falling into the hands of the Hogwarts Intruder. Yes, from the outside, Aulani Kala-whatever seemed perfectly nice, innocent, and a true Hufflepuff, but no one knew what Harry knew - no one else had seen the Intruder that first night, entering the castle unannounced, looking desperate and alien. No one had seen the way she had broken a spell meant to immobilize her. Only Harry had. Only Harry knew how dangerous she was.

        “Luna, can I talk to you?” Harry insisted as he got close enough to the pair. He noticed, almost immediately, the smile fading from the American’s face.

        “Oh, Harry, have you met - ?” Luna began, a bright smile still on her face that immediately made Harry feel guilty.

        “Yeah, I have,” he cut her off, side-eyeing Aulani in a very distasteful manner. She shrunk away from them, thinking that this was probably for the best. She couldn’t be friends with Luna; she was too close to the story - _way_ too close.

        “I - um,” stuttered Aulani, awkwardly backing away. “I should probably get going. It was great meeting you, Luna,” she concluded insecurely, knowing very well that this would be the first and last time the two of them would speak. Luna looked suddenly confused, a little worry laced within it, but Aulani didn’t even give her the opportunity to properly say goodbye, let alone to ask her what was wrong, as she quickly turned back to the castle and hastened away.

        Aulani was alone, she knew she was, and she knew that it was stupid of her to try to make friends; but the fact that she _couldn’t,_ the fact that Harry was almost _actively_ ensuring that Aulani would be alone, hurt. She was isolated in so many ways, and she didn’t know how much more of that she could take.

        She had every intention in the world to find McGonagall and dive headfirst into that damned book so she could find a way home, but only moments after stepping into the castle, she realized that the Chosen One had followed her.

        “Hey,” he started angrily, his voice unnecessarily loud in the empty hallway. “Stay away from my friends.”

        “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

        “I don’t care,” Harry answered quickly, which caused Aulani to wonder what had happened to the boy that everyone in her world, including herself, had fallen in love with. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t like it, and you need to stay away from me. I don’t know who or _what_ you are, but I can hold my own against _Voldemort_ , so I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”

        She meant to say something along that lines of _my mistake_ or _point taken,_ but she was so suddenly angry at him for his truly horrible judgement of her, that all that came out was, “I’m _not_ your enemy.”

        Harry glared at her, but ultimately said nothing and did nothing more than turn away from Aulani Kalawai’a, wondering just what kind of threat she posed.  


	15. p r o o f

        While Rory was not directly Muggle-born, Muggle culture had always been a major aspect of her childhood, a part of herself that she refused to give up. She was raised by two proud Muggle-borns and a very involved extended family, and it was evident just by the look of her home. In her living room was her parents’ old television that she and her daughter loved to watch together; in her garage was a small Muggle vehicle that they use to drive into London on the weekends; and in a small room just beside her kitchen was a washing machine, something that she loved, but her husband had never used.  _ It’s faster to use magic,  _ he would always say. Koda never realized that she didn’t utilize the machines for their efficiency - he never realized that she would take an hour or so to clean her clothes because that was the way her grandmother had always done it, and she would do anything to feel closer to her.

        “Dad’s way  _ was  _ faster,” commented Eleanora as she watched her mother gathering a pile of damp clothes up into her arms, transferring it over to the dryer.

        Rory shot her daughter a look, continuing her meditative Muggle housework. “It’s a good skill to have, Nora,” she chided.

        “Yeah, for Muggles.”

        “That’s quite enough, young lady,” snapped Rory. “Now, can you bring that basket of clean clothes in for me like I asked you to?”

        With a badly hidden eye roll, Eleanora pushed herself off the dryer and did as she was told. Rory watched her as she went, gravely saddened by the realization that her daughter knew the same feeling as she. She had tried so hard to give her daughter the childhood that she was never given - a childhood with two loving, living parents - but she had failed. Eleanora wanted to do things her father’s way for the same reason Rory wanted to do things her grandmother’s way - to feel closer to him.

        It’s been a little over a month since the night Koda had left and never returned; a little over a month since the morning two Ministry men had arrived at her doorstep saying there had been an incident; a little over a month since the world seemed to crumble around her - and still, not a day went by that didn’t break her heart more, knowing that he was gone. She took a deep breath, but it was shaky. She was glad that her daughter had left the room because she knew that what Eleanora needed from her was strength and stability, not a woman distraught over the loss of her husband.

        Rory calmed herself down and continued with her laundry. After starting the water for the washer, she began to move the dirty clothes from the basket beside her into the water, stopping prematurely when she noticed a small, square-shaped slip of paper fluttering down to the floor. Curiously, she finished with the last of the clothes, and, with the twirl of a finger, summoned the paper, taking it into the kitchen for better lighting.

        Curious was definitely the right word for the paper, for a number of reasons. It wasn’t like she didn’t recognize a movie ticket when she saw one (her grandparents had loved taking her to see films when she was young), but this one was just so  _ different  _ from what she knew, and she wasn’t sure if it was because it was from America, or because it was from the future.

        “Nora,” she called out, getting a muffled response from across the small house. “How would you like to see Auntie Minnie?”

        Minutes later, the two had Apparated to Hogsmeade, a place that was surprisingly empty for a Saturday. Eleanora was walking giddily beside her, excited to visit her Auntie Minnie at work for the first time, not seeming to care at all that it was so unexpected. The eight year old didn’t notice, like her mother, how desolate the little village had become with the effects of the war; she didn’t notice how the few people scattered around the streets seemed to be keeping one eye on them at all times.

        “Little Rory,” came a compassionate voice to their left. A smile breaking out across her face, Rory turned to the Three Broomsticks’ innkeeper, Madam Rosmerta. “Well, look at you now - you’re all grown up!” Happily, the two met in a warm embrace, leaving Eleanora to stand awkwardly off to the side. When they broke apart, however, the little girl became the center of attention. The innkeeper gasped happily when her eyes set on Eleanora. “My,” she began. “You look  _ just  _ like your mother! You must be Eleanora, then! Minerva has told me a lot about you.”

        “Speaking of Minerva,” Rory cut back in. “Have you seen her?”

        “There was a Quidditch game today, you know how she loves to watch those. Maybe try next weekend?”

        “I need to see her,” she explained. “It’s important.”

        Rosmerta let out a breath and thought through Rory’s options. “You could try to get into the school, but you know they’ve increased security. Might be difficult. Does she know you’re coming?”

        Rory shook her head, looking solemn.

        “I’ll tell you what,” Rosmerta continued. “Head on over to the gate, and I’ll send her an owl.”

        The Aldeheims did just that. Rory kept a tight hold of her daughter’s hand as they went, still very much aware of the eyes following them. Once they got past the village, however, their walk was quiet and almost serene. Despite the dark times, the outskirts of the Hogwarts castle were just as beautiful as she remembered. She could almost see the carriages pulling her younger self along to another year; she could almost hear the voices of long lost friends that she would give anything to see again; she could almost see him, blue eyes shining as he grinned at her from across the carriage. “Do I get to see Hogwarts, Mum?” Eleanora excitedly exclaimed, pulling her mother from her thoughts.

        Rory smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “If all goes well.”

        When they approached the gates, Rory was surprised to find a woman no older than herself with mousy brown hair standing guard, arms crossed protectively over her chest, her wand tightly gripped in her right hand. She looked horribly distraught and distracted, but that demeanor changed the moment she noticed the two walking towards her. At the woman’s wand aimed at the Aldeheims, Rory pulled Eleanora behind her protectively before she had even realized what was happening. The woman’s wand lowered slightly at the sight of the child, but she seemed to think better of it, raising it once again. “Who are you?” she asked immediately.

        “Mum, why does she have her wand pointed at us?” Eleanora whispered, frightened. It was then that sympathy seemed to fully reach the woman’s eyes, and she put her wand away.

        “Hogwarts isn’t taking visitors this year for security purposes,” the woman answered. She narrowed her eyes a bit as she looked closer at Rory. “Do I know you?” she asked. “You look familiar. What’s your name?”

        The woman’s jaw slacked as she looked from mother to daughter with sympathy. It was then that Rory knew that this woman was an Auror. She went to respond, but was cut short by an owl landing on her shoulder, dropping a letter into her hands. The woman quickly read over the apparently short note as the owl took off. “Well, you’re telling the truth,” she responded. “McGonagall says to lead you in, so if you’d follow me,” with the wave of her wand, the gates opened just enough to slip through, and she motioned them forward.

        Within the gates, the three of them walked in silence. In the presence of this unknown Auror, Rory could no longer guiltlessly think of her Hogwarts days if she tried. Excluding her first year, Hogwarts had always been bright and happy, acting as a place of stability for her in her ever-changing life, but now she saw firsthand that the war had left nothing untouched.

        Both Rory and the Auror jumped when Eleanora suddenly gasped, but they understood why when they followed her gaze. “It’s beautiful!” she cried, tugging on her mother’s hand. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” Never before has Eleanora actually seen the Hogwarts castle, and now, as she stared in awe at the marvelously castle she'd heard so much about, she began to feel the true impact of magic, though she's possessed it her entire life. Rory wondered if this was how Aulani had reacted.

         Rory grinned at her daughter. “Just think, sweetheart: only a few more years, and you’ll be going to school here.” Eleanora looked ecstatic. The Auror looked doubtful.

        Eleanora was also the first to spot McGonagall, walking briskly from the castle. “Minnie!” she exclaimed, surprising a pair of what looked to be third years, who sat in the courtyard nearby; Eleanora didn’t care, of course. She ran the rest of the way to the transfiguration professor, hugging her by the waist.

        “It’s a close relationship, then,” the Auror observed to Rory, surprised to see the strict teacher smiling so much.

        Rory nodded as she watched her daughter and the Hogwarts professor. “She’s like family.”

        Only moments later, McGonagall had thanked the Auror (apparently, named Tonks) and had led the Aldeheims into her office. “So, what was so important, Rory?” McGonagall asked with great concern. The last time she had come unexpectedly, she had done so in tears, with news of her husband’s death.

        “This.” McGonagall confusedly looked into the woman’s hand, in which she held a small, square piece of parchment. “It came from her pocket - I’ve only just found it.”

        “Well, what is it?” asked McGonagall. She picked it up, and looked at it closer.  _ Fantastic Beasts. Sunday. 7:25. 20/11/16. _

        “It’s proof.”


End file.
